The Two Odd Halves
by Eerie Enigma
Summary: After a chase with a mysterious being lands Tatsumaki in Z-City, her run-in with Saitama compels their Association's board of staff to do something about the growing schism between high and low-ranked heroes. And these particular two won't like what they have in mind. Saitama x Tatsumaki. Rating might change later.
1. Night of Terror

**A/N: Hey, All. It's been a while since I posted to this site. This particular experiment was done mainly for a dear friend of mine, but because of how much I'm putting into it, I'd be doing myself a disservice if I didn't post it publicly as well.**

 **So here's the thing. On the internet, there seems to be a small ship war going on between two armadas. I call them the USS Saibuki, and the USS Saitatsu. Since Saitama x Fubuki seems to be the larger of the two, I wanted to try playing with the other. People who already follow me understand how I love rooting for the underdogs.**

 **This should probably be considered slightly AU, just because it takes place after the Season 1 anime and goes on a different tangent. I have a lot of fun when I'm motivated to write, so even if you don't prefer or even respect the pairing, I hope you get something out of it regardless.**

 **And if you want to throw me some of that sweet, sweet candy, please go ahead and R &R. It ain't like a donation, after all. It's free. :P**

 **Cover art credit goes out to the respective creator, which in this case isn't me.**

 **Happy reads!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own One-Punch Man or any of its original characters.**

 **Chapter 1: Night of Terror**

" _Hello, and welcome back to ABC-Citizen News. I'm Kurosawa Momota, and the local time is twenty-one hundred hours this Saturday evening in Upper B-City District. As relayed by the earlier weather team, there is a heavy overcast, so be sure to take umbrellas if you plan to do some late-night shopping."_

The woman's voice buzzed electrically through the low-quality radio that sat on the table otherwise occupied by a clutter of dirty dishes. Next to it, an overtly large man sat on his knees, huddled over his final bowl to deprive his chankonabe stew of its last strip of meat.

"You're planning to clean all that crap up when you're finished eating, right Raiden?" A young man's voice called out from the corner of the spacious but dimly lit dojo. Every once in a while, the few lights in the room that hadn't gone out would buzz abruptly from above, as if grunting to stay alive.

"If I feel like it." The shirtless man replied, teasing apart the piece of meat in front of him with a pair of chopsticks. The swift motions he used with his fingers revealed a level of finesse betraying the sight of a man his size.

"C'mon man, I'm trying to straighten this shit up for the fresh-blooded Hunters." The other figure complained from his corner.

The heavy man dangled the meat between his chopsticks over his mouth like a fishing rod before releasing the morsel inside. Between chomps of his teeth, he half-spat out his response. "If your recruits want to join up so badly, they'll forgive the mess. Besides, it helps them know that we aren't here to breathe down their necks about house upkeep."

"Tch. Don't go out of your way to speak for both of us…"

Satisfied with his meal, the seated man ignored the utterance and slammed his dining utensils down next to the large empty bowl, causing the whole space to shake in protest. "That was a damned fine meal!" He got up, patting the full contents of his belly with enough force to cause ripples in the fat.

"Look uhh, I know you have to maintain your 'image' or whatever, but if you keep eating like that, you'll run us out of the business before we bring in enough to keep up with the grocery bills."

The larger man stood up off the floor, groaning with great effort as he hoisted his mass. "…Did you already forget why they call me Raiden?" The man's low, husky voice was now uncompromised by chewing food.

"Uhhhh…because lightning and thunder, and thunder is loud? So what's your point?"

The obese man in the middle of the room continued. "You ever learn about yin yang, Accel?"

The younger man pushed himself off the wall he was leaning on and stepped out of the dark, slowly revealing his features as he approached the center of the room. The difference between the two characters was palpable to any who could see.

The larger of the two men held the title by at least three sizes over. A Japanese sumo wrestler, traditional to the T. The only article of clothing he wore on his entire body was a white fundoshi vaguely wrapping around his pelvis front and back, leaving an uncomfortably small amount to the imagination. He was a mountain of flesh held together by muscle, which gave him the strange appearance of seeming loose and firm at the same time. Atop his wide shoulders sat his finer features, which any enemy of his would be unfortunate if caught close enough to appreciate. He had dark eyes and raven-black hair bunched together into a chonmage topknot, sitting elegantly at the top of his head like the spire of a crown.

In contrast, his smaller partner was of average height with the same black hair, only his was messy and unrestrained. He had a handsome face, marred perhaps only by the look of irritation it currently wore. The only one of the two clad in a full set of clothing, he had on a simple long-sleeved black shirt resting under a pocketed vest. His hands were clad in cumbersome-looking armored gloves, but if they weighed anything at all, he didn't seem to pay notice. He wore a regular pair of jeans accompanied by knee pads and an aura of grey dust. Below that, a pair of rollerblades attached to steel-toed boots. All-in-all, while not commanding the imposing size of his partner, he was by no means flimsy either, and seemed to fill out his clothes with an underlying athletic build.

"Is there gonna be a point at the end of this speech?" He asked wearily.

"There's a point to everything, lad." The sumo wrestler replied. "But people that don't care won't see it."

"So you're assuming I will? That's some courtesy you're showing me..."

"Then you can repay it by listening." Raiden returned.

His colleague grabbed his own ears and stretched them out in a facetious fashion to confirm that he was. Raiden ignored the mocking gesture and continued.

"You have two sides. Black and white. Average, small-minded people see only a fancy circle…"

"Or a Pepsine logo if they're colorblind…" Accel muttered with a scoff of amusement.

Raiden was quick to recapture control of the lecture. "But the yin and yang are tied together. One side of the circle is the wheels beneath your shoe, and the other side of the circle is the friction that propels them. Between motion and stillness, these two forces meet, and when placed harmoniously together under the right circumstance, they let you glide along the ground as if water."

The wrestler took the first hard step to leaving the table he sat at, ignoring the harsh interference of the radio as local newscaster Kurosawa continued with her evening report. He walked right up to Accel to look him in the eyes, and when he saw that they were clear and focused, he smirked down at him. "Did you ever think about it, Accel? Or are you an average, small-minded person too?" The towering man continued past him and looked out of the huge window. Night had gotten too dark for the glass to return him a view of the city, so he was met with his own reflection instead. He locked eyes with it and listened to the pattering sound of water tap the roof, soft and slow at first, but eventually picking up tempo. It had begun to rain. "My name is Raiden. I am the Lightning and the Thunder. But Lightning needs Thunder. And Thunder needs Lightning."

He turned back around to face Accel, who was still standing behind him. Then, surprisingly gentle, he put one hand on his colleague's shoulder while motioning the other one out to the table where he had finished his meal. "Food is my Lightning, Accel. And this glorious body of mine is my Thunder. I get no Lightning – I lose my Thunder. Get it?"

"Yeah, okay, Rai. You don't eat, then you can't stay fat enough to wake City Z every time you roll out of bed."

The sumo wrestler raised a stern eyebrow at the callous reply. The two stared each other down for a few long seconds, and the grip that Raiden had on Accel's shoulder tightened with malice. Accel grimaced at the force, but that was all he was willing to show. His eyes remained fiercely locked onto those of the taller man, and when the giant's face intensified with a vein popping down his furious forehead, it looked like he was about to lay into the smaller man and throw him straight through the window behind them. Instead, he instantly broke composure with a sudden thunderous, bellowing laugh which in itself might have been enough to shake the room. Where his hand was already resting on Accel's shoulder, he gave it a few playful but otherwise painful pats before releasing him from his grasp.

"Still the same cocky bastard you've always been! Where do they make idiots like you? If I was seriously mad, you'd be flat enough to fold into my briefcase right now!"

Accel furrowed his eyebrow in amusement. "It's a good thing you don't own a briefcase then."

"Hah!"

Accel wasn't ashamed to admit that as fast as he was, his mouth always seemed to keep up faster than his brain. He said what he thought, and whether he meant it as a joke, not everyone believed he was funny. The nail that sticks out the most gets hammered down, so the old saying goes. Growing up in his neighborhood, big mouths got little guys into trouble. And long before he became a teen, he learned to apply those wheels beneath his feet to carry him faster than any grown thug on the block could follow.

Raiden was _not_ a little guy. It didn't matter what he said to whom. He was the Super Sumo Yokozuna. He's never been anyone's prey. And as his shadow completely eclipsed the rollerblader, it was amusing to imagine that he might have been roughly his size at one point – perhaps when he was a minute or two old. But like most alphas, he found his niche at an early age, and now, no matter how fast anyone was, no amount of speed would be knocking him out of the ring. 700 consecutive challengers could testify to that.

So when Accel was within arm's reach of this golden goliath, it wasn't really luck that he was betting his life with, but simply knowing Raiden's temperament. Who would have thought that two fellows in such drastically different weight classes could have such a similar sense of humor?

The two slowly turned their attention to the report spilling from the radio back at the table.

"— _astounding impact of the events that unfolded at A-City a week ago. After the Hero Association repelled what appeared to have been an alien invasion, Agoni – the multi-millionaire and founder, as well as lead benefactor of the Hero Association – has green-lighted construction for a brand new headquarters to commemorate the efforts of the highest ranked heroes who fought valiantly on behalf of all surrounding communities. The new Heroes' HQ, proclaimed soon to be an impenetrable fortress, will be supervised by Bofoi, who is more commonly associated with the S-rank hero title, 'Metal Knight.' The site of the future headquarters is said to stand before the monument that was established in honor of—…"_

"Would it really kill you to just let me install a TV in that wall over there?" Accel spoke over the radio as the voice continued.

"Why?" Raiden snorted. "So you can jerk off to Momota-chan's cute face? She ain't even that hot."

Accel smirked. "Ahh. I forgot that you don't settle for any chick with an ass smaller than your mom's…and a dick smaller than yours."

"You cheeky son of a…"

" _In case you missed it yesterday, I will now release the names of the heroes who have given us permission to share their involvement in response with last week's attack on City A. S-Rank 16: Tanktop Master. S-Rank 15: Metal Bat. S-Rank 4: Atomic Samurai. S-Rank 3: Silver Fang. S-Rank 2: Tornado of Terror. And following in support of all S-Ranks on-scene is A-Rank 1: popular celebrity Sweet Mask, who is said to have intercepted a secondary threat from—"_

"Ahh shut up."

 **-CLACK-**

Accel kicked the radio over, silencing the broadcast.

Raiden raised his arms out in protest. "Now what did you go and do a thing like _that_ for? I had to time a sale right to get that!"

"That just means it didn't cost you much money. That dinner you had probably woulda cost more even if this thing was brand new."

"Whatever! That doesn't give you the right to break other peoples' shit."

"Look man, I just can't stand hearing people talk about that stupid peacock. And busting the radio was the fastest way to turn it off."

Forgetting about the vandalism, the wrestler blinked quizzically. "Peacock? You mean Mask?"

"Yeah…" Accel leaned back against the window and glared out into the black behind him. "That peacock cocksucking sucker. 'Handsome' Sweet-ass Mask."

Raiden rubbed the back of his neck. "He never runs from the spotlight, does he…"

"Easiest way for him to catch a tan on that prissy porcelain skin of his." Accel muttered with closed eyes and crossed arms. "I can't believe on top of the modeling gig, and the acting for that drippy soap opera, and even that trashy romance novel he wrote, they're hailing him as a hero now too. And I'll bet that blue-headed ho didn't chip _one_ fingernail fighting whatever was going on down there."

Raiden crossed his arms too, nodding his head in silent contemplation. No doubt his partner was right. Sweet Mask built his whole world off of the assembly line of fantasies that his adoring fans built for him. The sumo couldn't perceive what it was about such a feminine man that made girls give chase, but how could so many drooling mouths be wrong? At any rate, there's not a thing in the world that could convince either one of them that Mask was on-scene for any selfless reason other than to sponge up the media.

"I'm so sick of hearing about the Hero Association. If _I_ had a few mil, I could establish a group that size just as easy. Anyone could."

"We're establishing a group like that for _way less._ " Raiden pointed out, "which tells you just how easy it really is."

Accel frowned. "What we do won't even dent the windshield if we can't circulate our market. We need the Hunters."

"The Hunters will come, comrade," Raiden reassured him, "then the Hunt will begin."

"And Sweet Mask isn't the problem. Not by himself anyway. It's what he represents that bugs me."

"What's that?"

"I mean, why do you think the Hero Association uses him as their mascot?"

"Hrrrr…" Raiden pondered in a passive growl, "I suppose celebrity marketing is a very popular tactic when it's the public eye you're after. When I was active in the ring, half of what I made didn't even come from winning. It came from advertisement campaigns. Food sellers used me to show sumo aspirants that their bulking products worked."

"So why would they use an A-Rank to address the media when they have all those S-Classes?"

"Heh. Maybe that's actually his hero ability." The wrestler shrugged. "I know you hate Mask n' all, but he's multi-talented, so he's just gained appreciation of several bigger circles."

"They don't promote him because he's strong," Accel stated somewhat bitterly, "they promote him because he's famous. And influential. Mark me, that organization is rotting from the pit of the apple."

Before his partner could respond, the lights in the room began to flicker off and on – even the ones that they thought had been burnt out. The two turned their attention back down to the old radio that Accel had kicked down and watched with a small degree of disturbance as the machine slowly hummed back to life.

" _-it…_ _ **bzzzt**_ _…ortant…_ _ **zap**_ _….emergenc…ort for all neighboring ci…"_ The two continued to look down at it as the feed struggled to relay the report. Little by little, it got easier to understand the message. _"We're catching stran…_ _ **bzzt**_ _…interference. Something_ _ **bzt**_ _happening…"_

Amazed that the radio still worked after that kick, the two men exchanged glances, and Accel reached down to pick it up, giving the gizmo a few shakes. It seemed to help.

 _"Some sort of electrical interference is disrupting the broadcast. We've just received word that what appears to be a lightning bolt has struck the power station in upper City C. Multiple power outages throughout the area. We're tracing…_ _ **zeet**_ _…haywire of voltage seems to be causing blackouts while traveling down power lines. If you are in Cities B and C and have access to this report, do not panic. Reports are flooding in that the electric current appears to be alive but is moving away. Please advise that the disturbance is moving away, but we cannot verify what it is. Emergency power should arrive shortly. Those with friends and loved ones in Cities H, L, O, X, and Z are advised to reach out to them before the blackout arrives and warn them to remain in their homes. I repeat, warn Cities H, L, O, X, and Z…stay indoors! We will—"_

The damaged speaker of the radio flooded with static, and the woman's voice was completely drowned out by the crackling. Slowly, an entirely new sound seemed to take its place, drifting in just a little bit at a time like a phantasm, accompanied by an unsettling vacuum of back noise. The two had to strain their ears to hear it, but there was eventually no mistaking that it was there when it said,

"… _ **SCAnNing…err0rs…rE…cAli…bRaTIng…gRid ReLAy…"**_

 **-POP-**

Almost like a balloon, the machine burst into sparks. The place went dark, and the only light source was the smoldering fire from where the garbled voice had been speaking.

After a silent pause in the void of the dojo, Accel's irritated voice permeated the stillness.

"…Fan-fruity-tastic."

* * *

" _The chimp is our closest relative, sharing 98.7% of our DNA. But it also shares with us a very complicated mind, and, just like us, chimpanzees are prone to—"_

Boring.

 **-Click-**

"— _welcoming today Kay Katrashian. Miss Katrashian, thanks for being here with us this evening." "Oh, my pleasure honey." "Now, could you tell us more about this picture you took?" "Well, like see, late at night, weird ideas just come to me, so I thought, why not just take this pineapple…umm…shell, I guess, and wear it on my head as part of a Sunday wardrobe. I mean, Daddy is a doctor, and he already told me that pineapples have, like, a bazillion health benefits, so I just decided to take a selfie with—"_

Who cares.

 **-Click-**

" _Mister Clark…I don't feel so good." "You're alright, kid…" "I don't know what's happening… Please…I don't want to go, I don't want to go, please….don't let me go, I don't want to go…"_

Already cried over that.

 **-Click-**

" _HEY YOU! YEAH YOU! DO YOU WISH YOUR DOG WAS IMMORTAL?!"_

I don't even have a stupid dog.

 **-Click-**

" _Vilagra Single Packs. So guys can take it…when you need them to. Ask your doctor if your heart is healthy enough for sex. For erections lasting more than four hours, st—"_

Eep!

 _ **=CLICK=**_

This was all part of the nightly routine for Hero Association's currently highest ranked heavy-hitter. Sure she may hold the mantle only because Blast was gone, but who else really had the right to say she didn't earn her spot? Being good at your job was one thing. Being _active_ at it was another.

So as she sat in her baggy pajamas, planted to her armchair in the middle of her apartment, she couldn't help but run the cliché through her head, asking herself how there could be so many channels with so little on. At least it was only 2:00am.

Her television was the only light in the room. The glow might have been enough to put her in a trance if she wasn't so busy telekinetically flicking through the channels with her pointer finger. She rested her head on her other arm, leaning wearily into it while using the other to work over the TV. Being a hero may not come with that many perks – at least _she_ didn't think so – but being an esper sure did. No batteries for remote controllers.

Tatsumaki, the Tornado of Terror, was bored. Completely, utterly, irrepressibly bored.

She usually had a hard time sleeping at night. Sure you could call her a night owl for it, but she was one of those weird people that felt more alert after dark. Possibly because not nearly as many people were conscious to occupy her brainwave space with stupid thoughts. And people were stupid. _That_ part was never going away.

After a few dozen more attempts to find something remotely eye-catching on the screen, the green-haired girl finally gave up. She slumped back into her seat, trying for a moment to forget that she was a vertebrate as she allowed the cushion to suck her in.

She buried her mouth into the collar of her shirt and stuck her petite legs out, absent-mindedly watching the rabbit slippers she wore on her feet as she made them wrestle each other.

"You'll never defeat me, Sylvester." She called down in a low voice. "The barrows are mine, and your women too!"

She switched tones and set out to use a higher one for the other slipper. "I find that dreadfully unlikely, Warlord Whiskerfisk… I'm sending you hopping back to Hell!"

After a small moment that she was sure any of her colleagues would have turned into blackmail for her, she stopped playing and hung her arms out over the rests, staring blankly up at the ceiling.

"It's happening." She muttered monotonously to herself. "It's finally happening – I'm going insane."

While a part of her secretly wished for it just for the relief to stop giving a crap about absolutely anything, her small isolated world was cut off by a flicker of the television light. Most other people wouldn't have even noticed, but Tatsumaki sensed it right away. Something was disrupting the electricity running through the building, and that meant that something was disrupting _her_. And whoever or whatever it was, there was no excuse in the multiverse good enough to keep her from ripping it apart for interrupting her time off.

She allowed an aura of green to encompass her body, and in a burst of speed, she hastened to her bedroom. Seconds later, she emerged wearing a flowy form-fitting black dress and a matching pair of low-heeled black shoes. Emerald bolts of static crackled angrily from her frame, informing any potential threat in the room with her that she was ready for it.

Using her psionic extra sense, she scanned the space in the apartment and found that whatever was with her had left. But Tatsumaki knew that just like anything else that moves, it left tracks.

Her eyes glowed bright green, and on a spectrum of light visible only to her, she caught a translucent path of dust riding a cable cord out of her home through the wall.

"Ionized gases… Plasma…and silicon too?" She squinted intently at the bluish substance dancing in front of her. "Interesting…"

Wasting no more time on detective work, she blazed her way out the door, intent on following the direction of the trail. She instinctively knew however, that it would be too fast for her to chase through the city by street. It used electric currents for travel, and electricity moves _fast._

Instead of sticking low to the ground, Tatsumaki blasted herself high up into the night sky, strategically positioned well above the highest buildings of her city. Coated in energy, she looked like an exceptionally green star among the other constellations.

Searching below, her eyes widened in surprise when she saw what was happening to the district.

In a consistent pattern, lights in the city were going out in a small, concentrated area that seemed to work its way up one street at a time, like a snake paving a path of darkness through bright sand. It was creepy – to say the least – watching an invisible shape devour the lights of street lamps, windowed buildings, and every small thing in between. On the blackout's path, even the lights of cars were not spared, and Tatsumaki lightly winced as she heard the numerous crashing sounds of vehicles throwing themselves into each other in the darkness and confusion.

Following in pursuit from a high vantage point, the Tornado of Terror set the black sky ablaze with brilliant emerald green, and if anyone below took notice of her radioactive glow, they probably mistook her for a shooting star, paying her with selfish wishes as she flew by.

* * *

"Genos?"

"Sensei!"

"It's three in the morning."

"I am aware, Sensei."

"Cool, so what are you doing?"

"Boiling water, Sensei."

"Boiling water at three in the morning... _Why._ "

The cyborg's deeply disturbed glare was practically drilling a hole in the wall he was facing while he held a gigantic iron pot in his prosthetic hands. A volcanic glow was escaping his palms, all but superheating the metal between them.

"It cannot be helped." He stated factually. "Ever since the heating to the apartment has shut down, I cannot bear to fathom a day like tomorrow where Sensei shall be forced to bathe using cold water."

" _That's_ the reason?" His roommate expressed disappointment in his logic. "I'm not even getting up for another six or seven hours."

"Do not despair. I will be ready."

"Your plan is to stand there holding the pot for another seven hours?"

"I will do what is necessary for my master."

Lying back on his side and wearing his typical pjs, Saitama scratched his cheek in a mild manner of intrigue. The synthetic creature that most people now officially knew as the 'Demon Cyborg' had been rooming with him for a matter of months. Since then, the pseudo-machine's adulation for him only continued to grow every time he popped a monster's head off like a Pez dispenser. At worst his praise and devotion was obnoxious, at best it was weird, and on average it was creepy.

Having been said, this was one of those creepy times.

But even Saitama had to admit, seeing his self-proclaimed "disciple" drive to such lengths just to ensure him a comfortable morning was…well… _almost_ not creepy? As it goes, it's the thought that counts, and he guessed that he would rather be acquainted with people who erred on the side of caring too much rather than too little.

"That's kind of amazing, really. How can you go so long without falling over?" He asked Genos. "Is it some kind of battery?"

"It is actually quite simple." He surprised his idol with a rare smirk reserved only for small moments of pride.

"How do you do it?" Saitama pushed with interest.

"I am equipped with artificial sensory neurons that I can use to stimulate my brain at will."

"Okay, with you so far…"

"As I am sure you are aware, the brain is the central processing unit, or "CPU" that runs in all humans and most other organisms."

"Laying it on a bit thick, but sure…"

"However! My central processing unit is wired differently than most others. As long as I am within a hotspot, I can sustain consciousness for extended periods of time."

"Whaaa that's really coo—wait." He screeched to a halt, almost too afraid to ask for further elaboration. "What do you mean by hotspot?"

Genos turned his head to answer the bald face that now appeared slightly concerned.

Without missing a beat, he laid it out plainly.

"I use hundreds of tiny wireless charging modules throughout my skeleton to constantly absorb the energy of every available source within 804.672 meters—"

" _YOU'RE_ the reason our electric bill ran so high last month!" Saitama's eyes were practically bugging out, a long vein running down his forehead in extreme displeasure. "No freaking _wonder_ the landlord shut off the hot water!"

"I…I am deeply sorry Master!"

"Don't just be sorry! Turn all that crap off and sleep like a normal person!"

"O-of course…!"

Almost on cue, the entire apartment went black, leaving the two in abrupt darkness.

After a few quiet beats, a voice spoke. "Uhh, Genos, when I said shut it off, I didn't mean shut off _everything._ "

"I do not believe this is my doing, Sensei."

"Well who else? The next bill's not due until the end of the month."

"Wait…look outside."

"Ack! Hey, don't sneak up on people like that!"

"Apologies once again, Master."

"What is it? What's out there?"

The only immediate response he got was someone who could only be Genos sliding the glass door open leading to the outdoor patio and balcony. However, it appeared to be no brighter out there than in the interior room – not even some slight flooding from the street lights below.

From the other side of the glass door, a small light came on and illuminated a path across the room. Saitama squinted his eyes to adjust, and realizing that it was Genos guiding him, he made his way to meet him outside.

When he got close enough to the source, Saitama saw that the light was jutting out of Genos's shoulder – some sort of portable emergency flashlight. _'Huh._ _Go-Go Gadget.'_ Saitama thought with a shrug before stepping past him.

"As I suspected," the cyborg stated in almost a whisper, "it is not just us. The entire block has gone dark. Until I run a diagnostic scan for the city's power grid, I cannot ascertain the cause of the blackout or how far it extends. And I cannot do that from here."

"Now hang on," Saitama appealed, "let's not go on a survival horror quest out there without considering some of the smaller things it could be first."

"Sensei?"

"Yeah, you know, for instance a squirrel might have been chewing on a powerline for all we know. Or some hippies might be shutting all their lights off in a show of eco-friendliness."

Genos wasn't quite sure how to respond to his idol's flippant way of thinking. "That would…certainly be an odd array of circumstances."

"Besides, look how late it is. We should've already turned the lights off anyway by now." Saitama yawned and turned to head back into the building. "Maybe the power will be back on by morning. Let's just leave tomorrow's problems to tomorrow's us."

Genos was preparing to follow him back in too, but sensing something fast approaching from behind, he opened his mouth in surprise, "S-Sensei, incoming!"

A streak of white lightning came crashing from out of nowhere in the abyss of night, and Genos was thrown through the double-pane glass doors back into the house. As he went barreling into an unfortunate table, the lights that had gone out in the room immediately shot back to life, brightening and dimming on and off as whatever threw the cyborg remained curled up at its landing site.

Saitama and Genos both watched as what appeared to be a glowing ball of light slowly unfurled itself in front of them, looking more and more humanoid in shape as it straightened itself up. By the time it was completely standing, its head was almost touching the ceiling.

The entity in front of them appeared alien in origin, but its appearance told different stories. It had arms and legs like a person, but they were unnaturally lanky in length, and instead of hands and feet, each limb ended with a single razor-sharp tip, as if the creature was balancing on toothpicks. The details of its entire body seemed to be comprised of advanced circuitry, filled with an entire pallet of black, slivers, and white. It was like a mannequin carved out of some sort of motherboard, with wires and electricity floating all around its frame like water. It had a head too, though its face was completely featureless. No eyes, nose, mouth, or ears. But as they watched its body language, it was all too apparent that it knew exactly where it was – and where _they_ were.

In spite of the violent energy crackling all over, it stood tall, composed, and rather still. It turned its head to silently survey the area as the lights around the room continued to harken its arrival with turbulent flickers.

Genos got into a battle-ready stance, aiming the repulse rays of his palms at the potential threat. As one hero was preparing to expunge the intruder, Saitama was busy expunging a floater from his nose, using his pinky finger to haphazardly dig into his nostril without a care in the world.

After a small stand-off, the bionic shape in front of them did something that neither of them expected from a thing with no mouth:

It spoke.

At first, its speech was a completely garbled mess. Almost like demonic chanting in a language that didn't currently exist. But as they listened, a few audible words crept in.

" **St#nd bY... %$$#%***( RetRieVing $#;{}||| BinAry coDing... Initi*liZiNg Main HuB... ScanNing RegisTRY KeY for damAge... NO damAge... oPEning InterfAce..."** The creature's voice was unnaturally deep, and the inflections of its tone were way off-kilter – like it could make sense of the individual syllables but not quite apply them to words. It sounded like some sort of cheap voice modulator that hackers would use as a scare tactic. As it carried itself through the works of its apparent programming, the voice seemed to slowly be evening itself out. **"ScanNing… SigNatures detectEd: 2. PreppiNg Interacti0n… AcCessing sPeeCH MatriX… Updating Phonetic Database… Initiating Exercise."**

After that, all electric activity around it died down. Sparks stopped cracking off of its surface, and the lights in the room finally stabilized and remained on. All motor function of the creature seemed to halt, and it did nothing more.

Saitama and Genos continued to observe it from a distance for several minutes. It remained still. Standing tall and silent.

Genos didn't spend a second with his eyes off the stranger. "This is most irregular, Master. I suggest we—eh?!"

The cyborg's jaw dropped when he noticed that his roommate was already standing directly next to the metallic statue, hunched over as he studied its features with concern. Sticking a finger out, he poked the surface of its arm. "Huh. This is interesting." Saitama's face entered one of its uncommon "serious" styles, erasing all of the cartoonish appeal it usually wore.

"S-Sensei?" Genos looked on in awe. If his teacher was using _that_ expression, there must have been a seriously good reason for it. "What is it? What have you learned?"

The soft-turned-hardboiled egg glared intensely at the anomaly before him for a few more seconds. "It appears to be…" He snapped his head towards Genos to announce his revelation. "…some new variant of dakimakura!"

Genos's black eyes hollowed out and formed underwhelmed slits. "I…I have utterly nothing to contribute to this theory, Master."

Saitama's face reverted back to its less-artistic default. "No? You don't think that's what it is? But it's so soft and life-like…" He lowered his head in defeat and heaved out a small sigh. "Aw. I guess it was wishful thinking. My old futon's getting kinda raggedy and seeing how sterile this thing looks reminded me I need to do some mattress shopping."

He turned to look up at the creature's head, just as motionless as the rest of its body. Intent on continuing his investigation of the mannequin, he held his finger out again and slowly moved for the head next. "Well, whatever this is…it doesn't appear to be modern art at all…"

" **DANGER!"** The figure snapped its head and flashed a blood-red light from an unknown source on its face directly towards Saitama, nearly causing the self-proclaimed hero for fun to jump back clear through the wall in reflex.

"FWAAHH! Judas priest that startled me." In a split second, Saitama's expression returned from eye-popping batshit shock back into its neutral state. Meanwhile, Genos's itchy trigger finger nearly blasted a 3-meter wide hole through the ceiling, silently revealing that the quick movement scared him too.

The machine man-thing instantly regained movement and turned to address its two hosts. The manner of its voice had changed. It was still deep and imposing, but much clearer and evenly paced now. All of its strange ripples and fluctuations were gone – replaced with an unsettling air of artificial sentience.

" **Explanation: Sentry Service Unit detected anomalous kinetic spikes in close proximity. Scanning for source of misinformation… Result: Sensory glitch has bypassed preliminary start-up procedure. No threat detected. Attaching troubleshooting log to soft drive for later analysis."**

"Whatever you are and whatever you are doing here, your actions have been deemed hostile." Genos stated vehemently, intensifying the glow effect on his palms. "Look at what you have done! You spilled all of Sensei's hot water!"

"You're still focused on that?" Saitama almost looked disappointed.

"You have exactly twenty words or less to explain the meaning of this intrusion."

" **Scanning… Scan complete. Introduction: Greetings, Demon Cyborg. That parameter is impossible, however, enough to reveal this unit's from the future."**

"THAT WAS TWENTY-ONE YOU INSUFFERABLE BASTARD!" To Genos, this was all the justification he needed. It was time to light it up.

"Genos, wait! One of those words was just a contraction. Chill for a moment."

"Tch," Genos scrunched his nose and seethed his frustration through gritted teeth, "…so it would seem. To supersede the Twenty-Word Rule with such a tactic… This foe is cunning indeed."

"Just give the man a pass and let him talk." Saitama formed a drooling grin. "If he's really from the future, think of all the winning lottery numbers and cutting-edge recipes he can share with us."

" **Correction: this unit is not a man. From the time period this unit originates from, there are no lottery numbers, nor are there any recipes that humans like you require."**

"Ah, I see." Saitama smiled emptily. "Well – my night's ruined."

"You will suffer for what you did to Sensei's night!" Genos threatened vengefully. "But first, you say why you know my hero moniker."

" **Reply: In order to answer this query, this unit must issue self-identification."**

"Very well." Genos motioned it without letting his guard down. "Identify."

" **Complying… Classification: Proxy series. Assembly model: Proto Zuckerbot 9000, Mk II. Designated handle: ALEXANDRIA. Model number: 0234188—"**

"All _right_ already." Saitama interrupted. "For crying out loud, your name by _itself_ is longer than twenty words. Just get to the point, pay for the wall and table you just destroyed, and leave so I can go to bed."

" **Altering rhetorical approach… Rejoinder. The ALEXANDRIA Project is designed to—"**

" _There_ you are!"

Three heads turned towards the destroyed back opening to see a small figure floating in a green outline just outside.

Upon seeing who it was, Genos's internal heating system began to run cold, sending a harrowing chill throughout his exoskeleton. He had not forgotten the evil green witch that had just weeks earlier taken to mounting him up against a giant rock, effectively making a kindergarten-level mosaic out of his parts. So deeply was he engrained into the stone that Saitama and Bang had to painstakingly remove him in individual pieces; part-by-part, link-by-link, and yard-by-yard. The affair took about two hours, and he had to be carried home in a box like an assembly-required toy set.

Seeing the source of all that discomfort looming in her full arrogant splendor made the cyborg wish that the first intruder had finished the job when it crashed into him at lightspeed.

"I'll admit, you put up quite a chase. You had your fun leading me through the entire city alphabet, didn't you." She slowly descended towards the room, though remained at a comfortable distance from both the entity and the boys. "But my patience has run out. It's the end of the line."

The humanoid machine rumbled aggressively, and no one was sure what it would do next. **"Running facial recognition software… Scan complete. Accessing digital archives… File retrieved. Affiliation: Hero Association, Rank 2. Threat escalated. Switching paradigms… Evasive Maneuver."**

"What? Ohhh no. Don't you even think about leaving!" She threw her hand out at the bionic creature, intent on restraining it with her power. Her target stopped its rapid vibrating, and for a moment, her tactic appeared to be working.

But then the confidence in her face broke, and her eyes widened with surprise as she watched her captive stretch and float apart, losing complete definition of shape. She focused hard, making her green aura of influence expand to keep it contained. But in the end, it slipped awry and split into pure light again, crackling outwards in a hundred different directions. The whole room was hit with a blinding wave of strobe, causing all three heroes to reflexively avert their eyes.

Dazed from both the lightshow and the effort to staunch it, Tatsumaki's mental link broke once and for all. And by the time the light dimmed, the monster was gone.

The three were left standing around in the apartment, unsure of what to do next.

Tatsumaki, ever the fastest to cast blame, made the first move.

"What the hell were you two just standing there for?! Especially you, Tinker Toys! You're supposed to be S-Class too, aren't you? So why didn't you do anything to help!"

Genos grunted in umbrage of her chastisement, and Saitama could tell by the red glowing furnace of the cyborg's stomach how badly he already must have wanted to melt her face off.

Before the conflict could reach that realm of possibility, the bald hero decided that it was time to interject. The last thing he needed to end the night was to worry about the kid's parents filing a grievance against them for wrongful conduct.

Literally taking some heat off his roommate, he addressed Tornado face-to-face. "Excuse me, but why did you cut in like that?" He proceeded to chide her like the responsible adult that society commanded him to be. "Didn't your folks tell you how rude it is to interrupt grownups while they're talking?"

Having trouble processing who had the balls to lecture her, Tatsumaki's face fell into its cartoonish stature, her jaw hung open in disbelief. "WHAT?!"

"Besides, don't you know what time it is? What are you doing out so late? Did you get separated from your family? You should be in bed by now, shouldn't you?" As he continued to drop questions on her, only Genos seemed to notice every available object in the room slowly floating up from the floor, wrapped in green.

"Uhh…Sensei?"

Saitama just kept casually talking to the esper in front of him. "Aww c'mon, don't make that face, you're starting to make me feel like a bad guy. Look, it's okay, I'm not mad at you for what happened. You made a mistake, so all you can do is take this opportunity to grow from it. Can I get you something to drink? I think we have some soy milk in the—"

"You…" The word seethed out from between two rows of gritting fangs.

"Eh?" He blinked at her, perplexed, but laidback.

"You impudent…"

"Ah, sorry, I should've asked if you were allergic to soy."

"…detestable…"

"Ahh, wait, I forgot the fridge is out…"

"…imbecilic…"

"That means all the stuff in there's probably gone bad. Crap. Hey Genos, could you do me a solid and see if you can rescue the Szechuan—"

"BALDING ALIEN!" The building practically exploded. Shit was flying everywhere. It was like a poltergeist had imbibed a truckload of Greenbull before going on the clock to start haunting. "You're _MINE!_ "

Before either Saitama or Genos could react, the floor beneath the former's feet cracked all around him, and the next thing he knew, he was being catapulted out through where the back door used to be. Tossed into the darkness of the street, he re-centered himself with little trouble and stuck the landing in almost Olympic fashion.

It didn't take long for the angry emerald sprite to catch up. She hit the ground about two busses worth of distance from her new unwitting prey, and her arms were crossed threateningly while she sized him up to see how many buckets it would take to clean him off the pavement.

"Why did you bring me all the way out here?" Saitama asked, conveying some small annoyance on his face. "Are you saying you want me to take you home?"

Not realizing it was genuine, Tatsumaki ignored the question. "You seem to have some trouble with your memory." Her voice was calm, but waspish too. "Did you already forget who you're talking to?"

"Sure I haven't." He replied blankly. "You're that Hero Association's pride and joy. Tailwind of Trouble."

She raised a vexed eyebrow. "…Excuse me?"

"No wait, that's not it…" He put a ponderous finger to chin, mentally glancing over the small index of names he kept in his head. "Towel of Torment, I think…"

" _Excuse_ me?!" Her voice cracked into a squeak from the indignity being hurled at her. She couldn't even believe what she was dealing with right now.

"Ah!" He snapped his fingers with a smile, certain that he had it now. "Gassy Green Gust!"

"Damn you! It's Tatsumaki!" A tear hung comically off of her saucer-wide eyes. The concrete beneath her shoes erupted from all sides of her, as if she weighed several hundred tons.

As her feet slowly left the ground, her curly green hair began to sway with her power – something it only did when she was deeply disturbed.

"This won't be like it was back at City A, B-Class." She promised him. "Silver Fang isn't here to save you. In fact, I doubt the old man's even close enough to hear how much you're gonna _scream._ "

Genos, using some array of jet propulsion, shot out of the building to reach where the other two were.

Seeing that he was intent on joining the fight, Saitama shouted up to him, "Genos, stop!"

On cue, the Demon Cyborg halted his advance. "Master! Please allow me to take your place. Shitty brat—I mean Tornado is not worth having to wash off of your fist!"

"Heard that."

Not even a second after her voice rang out, Genos found himself being tossed by an invisible force clear into the dark of the sky. He tried to correct his trajectory and come back down using the repulsors in his hands and feet, but instead ended up spinning aerial flaming donuts as he continued to fly Bitchy Esper Airways.

Saitama's head sweat-dropped, but he nevertheless finished what he was going to say.

"Sit this one out, man." His face turned serious and defined as he turned to glare sharply at the opponent he was standing off with. "I don't know why you seem so upset with me, but you'll pay for turning Genos into a Ukrainian weather balloon."

Tatsumaki smirked at the gullibility he showed. Did he actually think he'd make it a single step towards her if she was generous enough to let him move on her at _all?_

"Here; why don't I give us some light." She snapped her fingers, and the darkness caused by the blackout was blown away by the rekindling of the street lamps. "Because when I drop you, I want you to see just how far you fall."

"Whoa…" Instead of seeming harrowed by her threat, Saitama widened his eyes with wonder at how she single-handedly brought electricity back to the entire block. "WHOOAA." His serious face quickly reverted back into its simple smile. "You can just _do_ that?"

She returned his creepy stare with a perplexed countenance of her own. "What are you talking about, punk?"

"Hey, does that mean you can bring electricity back _anywhere?_ An apartment for example?"

She furrowed her eyebrow in annoyance. His motivations were painfully plain and palpable.

"You…want me to give your house free power?"

"Well, it's just…" He scratched his cheek submissively, "you make it look so easy. At least easier than it would be to _pay_ for."

"Hmph!" She scoffed. This guy was even cheaper than his artist made him look. "It doesn't just _look_ easy. To me, exercising this level of power is the same as flexing my pinky finger."

"Awesome!" His eyes lit up.

"But if you think I'll just do it out of the goodness of my heart, you don't know me very well. Let's make a wager. If you manage to lay even a single finger on me, I'll keep your electricity alive long enough for you to catch up on your next bill."

His smile widened into an obnoxious crescent. "You mean it?!"

"But!" She held up an intermitting finger. "If I beat _you..._ " Now it was _her_ turn to smile. And it didn't look half as innocent as his. "You have to leave the Association as soon as you come out of your coma. And not just leave. You have to quit being a hero." Her eyes narrowed to emphasize her demand. "Indefinitely."

Saitama looked at her solemnly. He seriously wasn't sure why she had such a grievance with him, but he figured it wasn't worth an explanation if he won anyway. He just wished that other heroes could come up with more creative ideas for challenges. Like video game matches, or for kids like her, maybe Hangman. At this point though, he suspected that she just wanted to fight to blow off some steam. Losing that robot thing probably hurt her more than he realized, and who knows how long she had been chasing it.

"Oh come on, do we really have to do it this way?" He appealed for lighter alternatives. "How about we settle this over a friendly contest of Rock-Paper-Scissors?"

She gave him a flippant look. "Sorry, I can't hear you from all the way over there. Why don't you try coming closer," the malicious green glow in her eyes intensified, "… _then_ we can talk."

Saitama sighed hopelessly and balled his hands into fists. "Have it your way, kid…" He raised his fists up and got into a fighting stance. He didn't take his gaze off of her, even as a familiar cyborg finally stuck his awkward landing in a nearby telephone pole. Instead, he looked her square in the eye, and as the ball dropped on their private match, he gave her his intention:

"I'm putting you to bed."


	2. The Rule of Two

**A/N: I am just loving the attention that my first chapter has gotten in only a week! Every review, fave, and follow makes my day brighter. Stay sweet!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own One-Punch Man.**

 **Chapter 2: The Rule of Two**

Cool and collected, Tatsumaki directed a nonchalant finger towards Saitama and commenced her volley of miscellaneous objects.

She silently decreed that in order to blow off some of the night's disappointment, she would start small and toy with him a bit before slamming the gavel down on him for good. To that end, she started the first wave with only small stuff: pebbles, mailboxes, trash lids – and maybe the occasional stray cat.

The currently cape-less baldy watched it all fly, and in his heightened perception, it all seemed to drift slowly towards him, like leaves on a gentle stream.

With an emotionless expression, he uttered something incoherent to the green-headed girl:

"Warming up the milk."

Her concentrated gaze broke slightly to reveal a small, befuddled scowl. "Wha?"

Effortlessly, he parkoured over a few larger projectiles of debris thrown at him whilst allowing the smaller pieces of trash to glance off his body. A few rocks and shards of glass cut across his pajamas as they sailed by, but he didn't seem to take notice of the damage.

He spoke again, as if not even thinking about the fight. "Time in the microwave should be twenty more seconds."

She blinked at him a few times trying to make sense of his ramblings, but finally shrugged and ultimately decided not to waste precious braincells on comprehending fools.

"Impressive reflexes," she applauded slow and half-heartedly, "…for a shaved vegetable. Maybe I'll allow you to entertain me for a bit longer after all."

The glow around her body shimmered brighter. Wooden planks tore away from nearby fences, and bricks were plucked out of alley walls. Her new harvest of junk ammunition coalesced and orbited around her like the trashy rings of a tiny trash-talking Saturn.

"It's good to know that you can at least move faster than a C-Class. Keep it up, and I might just start treating you like a Wolf-Level Threat." The objects around her stopped their rotation, and with a flick of her wrist, they spread evenly around her and poised to launch forward. "Time for your next test. Let's see how well you can dodge things that are more clustered together."

On cue, she emitted a slightly larger blast wave, and her makeshift missiles flew for him again. The same as before, Saitama uttered something strange as he held his ground.

"Rolling up the blankets."

He tucked into the ground, and in an anomalous burst of speed, he undulated beneath everything that flew, kicking up a huge cloud of dust and trailing a heavy scar in the street. Circumventing her gimmicks once more, he stopped his advance right in front of the dumbstruck esper and popped up straight just a few inches from her face.

"Milk's done."

She burst into hysteria and hissed. _"Shit!"_ This time driven more by natural reflex than careful calculation, she sent him soaring back in the other direction by launching a pillar of concrete out from beneath his feet like a springboard trap.

He let himself pretend to be a bird for a bit, then corrected his course and landed on his feet again.

"Why do you keep spouting that nonsense?!" She pointed at him accusingly. "All that should have hit you for sure! You're cheating somehow!"

His response was just as mysterious as his others. "You're being stubborn. Just drink your milk and get ready for bed."

She gritted her teeth in outrage. "Oh, you still wanna treat me like a kid, I see. Fine then – see who it hurts. That'll just make it more humiliating when I smack you down!"

This time, underground water pipes burst out from below the street and wrapped around Saitama like thick metal snakes, covering every inch of his body except for his head. Saitama grimaced, and while Tatsumaki proudly took it as a sign of fear, it was actually him merely hoping that she didn't just rip out all of the plumbing from his apartment to use as she pleased.

Securely fastening him to the ground, she was confident that it was smooth-sailing from there on out. "What's wrong?" She crossed her arms and gave one of her antagonizing signature smirks. "Can't you move?"

He glanced out at her, seemingly unfazed by his restraints. "Your attitude stinks." He replied. "Time for your bath."

In a performance that would have made Houdini shed tears, he breached the confines of the pipes with one effortless twist, rupturing them in the process. As water spewed forth out of each conduit like fire hoses, he kicked their points of entry outward in Tatsumaki's direction.

The S-Class munchkin, stupefied at what was happening, could not react fast enough to save herself from the barrage of high water pressure. Her delicate floating frame took a dead-center slam from the geyser that sent her plummeting several yards back. Fortunately for her, it only took seconds to recover and respond, and she managed to kite her way around the oppressing torrent.

"Ack!" She gagged with her tongue out, trying to expel the fresh taste of earth from her mouth.

Saitama looked almost disappointed by her willingness to escape. "That's no good – gotta clean behind those ears too…" He stomped down on the head of one of the pipes, skillfully adjusting the course of its blast.

Right as she thought she was free of the water assault, a small stream of it broke off from the main body and pelted her in the face, though not strong enough to knock her back this time. Instead of trying to evade again, Tatsumaki simply threw her arm out to the side, deflecting the liquid away through means of some invisible wall.

Even so, the mucky fluid had already done all the damage it could. She was thoroughly drenched in muddy ground matter and dripping wet. Her messy hair hung down in limp strands like a green mop, completely obscuring her facial features. Her shoulders shook wildly, and Saitama couldn't discern if it was because she was angry or just cold.

With a small growl between heavy breaths, she splattered a hand over her mossy hair-covered face and slicked it back. It was then that Saitama could plainly see which of the two cases it was.

Tatsumaki's face was bright red. Her teeth were clenched and biting down as hard as they could – he could hear them grinding together all the way from where he was standing. Her eyebrows were bearing heavily down over a pair of shrunken pupils, and a vein was popping indignantly out of her forehead.

As Saitama silently concluded to himself that her hair might actually look better straightened out like that, that very same hair floated upwards over the Tornado's head, held unnaturally by a redoubled amount of her psychic power.

" _Y o u…"_ The venom in her tone was dripping more than anything else on her body was. And _that_ was impressive. _"You're a_ _ **dead man.**_ _"_

"Uh-oh." Saitama answered blankly. "Stayed in the bath too long. Here, let me help you dry off."

In a rather telegraphed movement, he began to jog plainly up towards her. But this time, she wasn't in the mood to play anymore.

Pumping her legs up, she threw herself down to the ground with a powerful two-foot stomp. In direct response, Saitama was utterly smashed in between two rising plates of concrete like a tectonic egg sandwich.

With his body out of view and presumed to be shattered, Tatsumaki sank to her hands and knees to cough up the last bit of water she had almost choked on. "That slippery brass-balled bastard…" She struggled with to regain her breath. "But with this…it's over." She huffed with some lingering distress, but looked otherwise contented with herself. "Maybe the Association will even make me Hero of the Month just for scraping you off the bottom of their shoe for them."

She took a moment to twist some of the water out of her locks and managed with some partial success to regain some of their curl. As she prepared to set off into the starry night, she grunted when she heard a small cracking sound coming from the stony prison she had just pulled her victim into.

Unbelievably, the lips of the cloistered shell began to split asunder, and from within emerged the seemingly flawless pearl of her adversary's head.

"Story time. I'm cracking open the book." He said casually as he shrugged both sides of the demolished road from his shoulders.

Tatsumaki's jaw dropped "You're unhurt?! How can you be unhurt! Are you stupid? Do you not even know when to be unconscious?!"

"Nope." He answered. "I changed my mind. You've been bad, so you don't deserve a story."

Quickly forgetting her shock, her face twisted back into indignant rage. He _still_ insisted on keeping up with that stupid roleplay?

"I…" She opened one hand out toward him while the other reached up towards the sky, palm out. "…am _NOT A CHILD!_ "

Saitama paused for a second to look up, and it took him a moment to register how the stars above him seemed brighter than usual. Almost as if they were on fire.

Through the delirium brought on by fatigue and the excessive strain of her power to warp natural law, Tatsumaki laughed almost maniacally at his new predicament. "You should see how dumb you look when you're confused." She taunted him from afar. "Then again, I'll bet you look this way all the time!"

She flexed her hand out, effectively tightening her invisible grasp on the numerous spheres of flame floating above them. There, as if the black sky was paper, the fires began to catch and spread across it, each from their own point of origin. The entire city lit up in the esper's counterfeit daylight, and if anyone was awake to see it, they were sure to think that the apocalypse had finally come to claim the planet.

The need to stop her had become all too urgent now; it was growing hotter by the second.

"Breathtaking, isn't it?" She asked him while sporting a sadistic smile. But as much as she struggled to put up a tough front, the exertion she wore on her face was plainly seen. And Saitama surmised that doing whatever she was doing – even for someone of her caliber – was costing her quite its share of effort. Her words were somewhat strained as she spoke again. "A regular person can train their mind every single day for several millennia and never achieve this level of control. Limitless energy. I can even cheat the Laws of Thermodynamics – generate light and heat completely out of nothing if I choose to! And you…you should really learn to play possum when competing against someone with no limits. Now…" capitalizing on her point, she threw both hands downward, "it's the burn unit for you—!"

Before she could even finish uttering her final syllable, Saitama emerged from out of nowhere right in front of her face, using some means that defied the human eye.

"Didn't you hear me?" He asked impatiently. "I said story time's over. Good night." She barely even had time to gasp in panic before he reached out to her face. He curled two of his fingers together against her forehead, and with the loud, abrupt sound of a firecracker, he delivered the only damage that Tatsumaki had sustained in years – a flick.

Instantly on impact, the green barrier around her body shattered like glass, and the sheer force knocked her clean off of her levitational float.

She entered the dreamless rest before even hitting the ground.

"And sleep well." Saitama finished, even though he knew she could no longer hear him.

As if to symbolically signify her loss, all of the incandescence she fabricated with her mind began to dissipate overhead, and the temperature gradually fell back into its normal clime. All the street lamps she had revived began to die again as well. There was never a more appropriate time to say that Tatsumaki's "lights were out" – in every possible fashion.

As the streets descended back into their natural darkness, a familiar voice reached out for him. "Sensei!" He turned to see his self-spoken disciple hurrying over to him. "That was amazing, Sensei! What did you do? The range of motion was too small for my sensors to pick up."

Saitama gave him a shallow glance, as if it should have been obvious to anyone.

"Huh? I just did what I said I would do – I put her to bed."

Genos put a finger to his chin for a moment in deep thought before his eyes widened. Reality had set in. "You just defeated the highest-ranking active hero on the Association's roster! Master, this is irrefutable proof that you should be Rank 1! Or at the very least that Senritsu no Tatsumaki should be demoted by more than a few..."

"Huh?"

Saitama blinked at this a few times and turned to look back down at where the Tornado of Terror had crumbled. She was unconscious, but still breathing heavy from the ordeal. He continued to gaze at her sleeping face for a few minutes, and from the shallow well of emotions he was capable of expressing, there was one particular emotion he got especially close to at the moment:

Pity.

She may have been sleeping, but her face looked anything but peaceful. It looked sad. Sad and frightened. And no matter how she treated people or talked to them while she was alert, he just couldn't hold that reality in his mind as long as she looked like that. A helpless expression is capable of telling an entire story. At some point in her life, he knew beyond the scientific realm of doubt that she had inherited a curse of some kind.

Something happened to her.

Something went wrong.

And for whatever reason, it seemed like the entire world was the only thing she had left to blame. As a coping mechanism, she may have felt that it was her only escape.

Saitama could relate. No one would believe it, but he once came very close to making that very same mistake.

Finally, he answered Genos. "I shouldn't, really…"

The young cyborg blinked. "Sensei?"

"It wouldn't be right for me to take Rank 1. I haven't earned it."

"But Master, what could you possibly mean? Look at her!" He motioned down at her small, wet, crumbled structure. "You did that. You _earned_ that."

"Earned what, exactly?" He asked passively without stopping to glance back at him. "That minikin brat could've been running laps for hours with whatever broke into our apartment before she even got here. Not to mention how late past her bedtime it is. There's no way she was bringing a hundred percent to this fight. And even so, I didn't even really fight her. _She_ fought her. I just blew the leaf over when it was ready to fall."

His roommate frowned. "Forgive me; I am still not sure what you mean."

"Aah, just figure it out. I'm getting tired, ya know?"

"Ah!" Genos livened up as his concerned robo-waifu protocol came back online. "Master must be exhausted! Let us depart. We will figure out what to do about that 'Alexandria' creature tomorrow."

"Wait a minute, man." Saitama stopped him. "What about her?" He motioned down at the topic of interest.

"Eh?" Genos gave him a spacey look. Uncertain of what it was his teacher was hinting at, he struggled incessantly trying to connect the dots as he periodically switched between glancing at him and glancing down at the girl he was gesturing towards.

Ultimately his teacher had less patience than he did, and a vein cropped up on his head as he began throwing clues in. "Is there something about leaving a small, cold, wet, unconscious girl by herself on a deserted corner in the middle of the night that your smart robot compass thinks might be slightly _not okay?"_

"Forgive this foolish disciple, Sensei! I was not thinking. As always, you are correct." Intent on not wearing his favorite hero's patience any thinner, the Demon Cyborg jaunted over to where Tatsumaki was lying down and gently scooped her up into his arms. "It was careless of me to leave such a renown and distinguished member of the Hero Association behind without returning her to her respective place. It is only proper, after all."

Saitama smiled with a hint of pride at his pupil. "You're learning all the time, Genos."

The cyborg smiled back at his mentor. "Thank you, Master. All in a day's work." He began to carry Tatsumaki off in a random direction. This led to some slight confusion on Saitama's part.

"Umm, Genos? Where are you going with her?"

His apprentice turned back and faced him with the look of absolute determination to return the Tornado of Terror _exactly_ to where she belonged.

"To locate the nearest dumpster, Sensei."

Saitama's eyes almost blew out of his skull. "The living _hell_ you are! Get her inside, you synthetic socio!"

"Y-Yes! At once!"

* * *

Despite the gaping hole in the side of the apartment, Genos stood on ceremony and entered through the front door with the esper still in his arms. Saitama followed him in tow, making sure that the cyborg didn't try to take any more…grandiose detours.

The power to the room was still out, so in the darkness, Genos used the light extension from his shoulder to guide them through the black space.

"Hang on a sec. I'm gonna go grab something." Saitama called from behind him with a hint of excitement and disappeared into the next room. A moment later, he reemerged holding an electric lamp in his hand. He felt around the bottom for the switch, and with a click, yellow luminescence swept across the area as the small contrivance buzzed to life. The light took on the odd shape of a cartoonish octopus character with a wide, subjectively creepy grin, wearing an academic dress and cap. At the center of the character's tie was a crescent moon.

It was no perfect substitute for the burnt-out overhead lights, but Saitama was dying for the excuse to show it off. It covered a larger range than Genos's little flashlight – and best of all – it ran separately on good old fashion batteries with no strings attached.

Saitama kneeled to set the gizmo at the center of the room on the floor. The features of the two boys appeared dimly next to the light source, and their long shadows stretched to the wall.

As he watched his idol stand up to look for something else, Genos voiced his concern with a question. "Is she really spending the night _here,_ Master?"

His response echoed from the far side of the room. "I don't see what else we can do. We don't know where she lives, and she isn't in any condition to hurry home either. Just let her sleep it off."

"It is highly possible that she has a concussion." Genos replied. "Perhaps sleep is the last thing she needs."

"Alright then," Saitama came back holding something rolled up in his arms, "if you're that concerned about it, _you_ wake her up. Just make sure you do it when I'm not around for her to bite my head off too."

Heavy with discouragement, Genos slumped his shoulders. Weighing his options, he ultimately decided that her health wasn't worth the risk of tempting a tornadic storm.

"Here, she can use the spare futon." Saitama unraveled the bed on the floor. "Hasn't been used in a while."

"Isn't that because it is the same futon that you spilled miso soup on? Did we ever remember to wash it?"

"Well yeah, it is…" Saitama looked a bit uncomfortable. "And no…we didn't. But I mean come on, that happened like three weeks ago. Maybe the smell's gone away by now…" With an optimistic smile, he pressed the futon to his face to check.

Genos tilted his head with curiosity. "Well how is it?"

Without even bothering to drop his smile, Saitama lowered the material from his face to look up at him with eyes utterly devoid of hope. "Ah. It reeks worse than ever. Smells like a hot foot forest." The two hung their heads in disdain, but Saitama was the first one to recover with a careless shrug. "Well she tried to kill me, so I guess whatever."

"There is another matter." Genos informed him. "Her clothes – she is still wet."

"Aah, yeah. It would be bad for her to catch cold." Saitama agreed. "Let's see…" He put a thoughtful finger to his chin and scanned the room. "What do I have around here that she can wear…"

* * *

" _Deplorable."_

Tatsumaki's eyes shot open in shock. She found herself sitting – or maybe floating – in an empty white space, isolated, and dressed in a simple white gown. Against her desire, she remembered the room all too well.

She remembered that voice too. It was strong and regal.

"Blast?" She called out in an uncharacteristically insecure voice. "I-Is that you?"

For a long period, there was nothing. No response. The cell she was in had not a thing in it besides her; no definition, no features, no color – providing a strange optical illusion that it was stretching out and shrinking in all at once. It was _breathing._

The tricks it played on her were almost more than she could take. The motions made her sick.

She fought the urge to double over and retch, instead trying to put her focus on where that distinct voice came from.

"Someone? Are you out there?"

Again, there was nothing. The silence that followed almost had a voice of its own. Like the whir of deep space – the hum of an empty void.

" _Deplorable."_ the voice echoed again – closer now.

She frantically looked around the room for a source, and there was nothing. A pristine glassy interior that seemed to pulse with evil. The empty noise was getting louder. It was grating against her ears.

" _All your gifts… All that power…"_ the voice seemed to emulate from all around her. Surrounding her. Rushing in and out. Like it was running circles around her. _"but none of it kept you from forgetting what I taught you."_

She put her hands over her ears, trying to block out the abrasive noise that kept increasing. It sounded like she was in a vacuum now.

Blocking it had no effect. It came right through. The voice did the same. She could almost _feel_ the sound slipping through her fingers. It felt like worms squirming into her ears, slimy and writhing.

" _You have forgotten yourself. You have forgotten_ _ **everything.**_ _"_ The voice turned bitter – almost contemptuous.

"N-No!" She shut her eyes tight and called back at it. "That isn't true! I haven't forgotten you, Blast! Please…please don't be mad at me!"

She opened her eyes. Her mouth dropped agape with horror at what she saw in front of her.

Its head was bigger than the room. She didn't know how it could possibly be in there with her.

Its six lidless eyes pierced her soul, and even without pupils, she could tell that they were all fixed on her. Its mouth was splayed open from wall to wall in a primal grin, and it opened to reveal everything inside to her: countless rows of razor-sharp teeth, and what she could only perceive to be a window to Hell itself. Every fearful thing in the universe seemed to be staring right back at her through it, and she heard screams of countless souls echo out of its throat.

It was the monster. The one from eighteen years ago.

She raised a hand at it in order to subdue it with her powers, but was mortified when it had no effect. There was nothing in the room to throw at it. Nothing she could do to harm it. Nothing she could do to make it go away.

Letting her survival instincts kick in, she tried to turn around and fly. Run. Anything she could do to put distance between her and those evil jaws. But suddenly something pinned her in place by her head.

She looked up in confusion, feeling around for her restraint with her hands. She felt her fingers run along a cold, smooth dome of metal. It was her headpiece. The last memento she had of the scientists that had used it to experiment on her. The memento from which she endured lasting torture. And now it dangled her in front of her doom like a fishing lure.

"Blast!" Hot tears were rolling down her cheeks. "Help me!"

" _I told you…"_ The voice was brushing up against her ear in a harsh whisper, "… _ **you should never have expected someone to come save you!"**_

The room was drowned out by a hellish roar as the walls of jagged teeth closed in around her.

"BLAST!"

She screamed out his name as she sprang up, gasping for breath. Wild with fear, she rapidly checked her surroundings. The white room was gone. The sounds, the voice, and the monster too.

Instead, she found herself at the base of a crummy apartment, only distinguishable to her blurry vision through the lamp that shone dimly on the floor next to her.

When she turned to inspect the light more closely, the ugly tentacle monster that it manifested itself as made her jump straight up with her back arched like a cat. She almost shattered it on reflex.

"Hah…! Jesus!" The pang from her startled heart quickly shot up into her brain with a sharp throb, causing her to clutch her forehead with both hands. "My head…" She gritted through her teeth, trying to adapt to the unpleasantness that seemed to revisit her in heavy waves.

Attempting to slow her breathing, she reached a hand to the back of her neck and felt the cold of sweat trickling down her skin.

"What a shitty dream…"

Tatsumaki couldn't remember the last time she dreamt. Ever since the incident of eighteen years ago, she was quick to discover that with great power like hers came great restrictions too. Her brain was in a constant state of duress, exacerbated by the extent of which she used her psychokinesis. Levitating herself took little to nothing out of her, which was why she favored it over walking like everyone else. But stopping the planet on its axis, or attempting to pull stars out of the sky? _That_ shit didn't come for free.

Remembering how hard she pushed herself in her last quarrel, she ran the back of her hand under her nose, and her face darkened when it came back with fresh red smeared on it. A nosebleed.

Instantly she regretted how far she let that conflict take her. Who the hell was she even trying to impress showing off like that anyway? With a little more imagination, she realized that opening up a sinkhole beneath the baldy's feet would have given her what she wanted at less than a quarter's expense of her health. It was a bitter pill for her to swallow, but she discerned that in the end she had her own flaring temper to thank for whatever happened.

…Not that she would ever admit that out loud.

Suddenly her mind was drawn away from recent events and towards a bizarre smell arresting her nose. Unless her blood had somehow turned ramen-flavored since the last time she was awake, someone was going to have questions to answer.

"What the hell…" She murmured with a repugnant squint and gave the air around her a few good whiffs. It smelled like the Deep Sea King and Puri-Puri Prisoner fight-fucking in the middle of a rotten cabbage field.

She followed her nose downward towards the offending source, stopping short when it reached what she was wearing. "Wha…?" She explored its soft texture with a few tugs, fairly confident that she didn't go out wearing any color other than black.

Sparing no time, she shot up out of the futon and surveyed the area for a mirror.

Finding none in proximity, she scouted out the bathroom and slipped inside, using her power to carefully shut the door behind her and snap the lights on. There, she faced the glass wall head-on.

Her eyes widened into dinner plates. What she saw herself wearing…staggered her.

Her jaw dropped to underscore her disbelief at the detail of the over-sized hoodie she wore around her slender frame. The colors were not overly dynamic, with the shoulders and arms a crimson red and its torso a plain white. Its most eye-catching feature, however, were the letters displayed in obnoxious gold print across her chest, spelling out the word 'OPPAI'. Directly below that hung a peculiar design. Two curvy half-circles side-by-side were each wrapped around a single dot, which Tatsumaki could only presume represented a pair of boobs right over the spot her _actual_ boobs would be if God didn't hate her.

Gazing at the spectacle, her mouth remained wide open, and when no sound other than a crack would escape her voice, she resorted to simply mouthing her sentiments to her reflection:

 _What. The. Fuck._

When her eyes finally had their fill of the abomination wrapped around her, they moved upwards and narrowed suspiciously at a patchy red spot on her brow. She poked a finger at it to test it with some pressure. It hurt enough to make her wince. And no wonder the headache. She looked like an absolute mess.

After taking a moment to clean the blood from her face, she reappeared in the main room to reconvene with her situation. She spotted two reclining shapes along the floor some distance from where she had woken up and knew who they had to be. Using the ultimate stealth cheat, the miniature esper hovered her way towards her hosts to prevent any footsteps from alerting them.

Floating right over the space between the boys, Tatsumaki had a good view of both sleeping faces from her tactical vantage point.

The first one she noticed was Genos. She regarded him with a curt, dismissive scoff and moved on. Studying him was a waste of time. There was nothing special about the Demon Cyborg – he was a glorified Backstreet Boy with a horsepower engine welded to his ass. All-in-all his mechanical parts were probably the most useful thing about him, and even then, she wasn't convinced that he was worth their expense. After all, they already had Bofoi and Drive Knight, so what did they need a point-five version for? Anyone she could just pick up and throw around with impunity like an old ragdoll wasn't worth her attention.

She looked over her shoulder at the other sleeper in the room.

Then there was _him._

Narrowing her eyes into a sharp stare, she adjusted her floating position to lean closer to the resting egghead. She scrunched up her nose at his underwhelming appearance. With his eyes closed and his drooling mouth open, he looked arguably even dumber asleep than awake.

And yet visions of their encounter flashed back. Even when she was going easy on him, there was no way a regular B-Rank would be able to wade through all of that punishment – not without getting reduced to swiss cheese. That he made it look so easy only made it harder to believe.

The confusion surrounding the bald man in front of her frustrated her greatly. And realizing that her headache was quickly escalating into a migraine, she knew that thinking so hard about it wasn't making it much better. Her pending review of this weirdo's talents could wait a day or two.

Instead of focusing on that, she found that she now had him in a rather helpless position. Looking down at him with a deadpanned expression, she opened her palm to reveal the green globe projecting from her fingertips. Tempting was the thought to repay him for all the humiliation he had given her during their bout…for getting her cold, wet, and dirty…for laying his filthy hand on her, tucking her in like a puppy on a stinking futon next to a glowing tentacle rape monster and dressing her in shamefully debaucherous clothes. He had quite a lot to answer for.

Her sinister grin stretched wider across her cheeks as she reached down with her radioactive hand outstretched to his face. A few inches more, and being bald would be the least of this asshole's problems.

Right as the eerie glow got to the tip of his nose, she remembered something.

He didn't _have_ to tuck her in like a puppy. And while she wasn't all too happy with her current fashion statement, he probably just gave it to her because it was warm and dry.

She frazzled her hair in self-loathing. Was she really arguing for this imbecile?

But breaking through her layer of stubborn pride, she had to question her alternative chances. Outside, unconscious in the pitch black of night, soaked in cold sewage, by herself in a world where predators came in both human and monster varieties. She supposed that rather than leaving her to face what was out there while she couldn't even defend herself, it's _possible_ the two _may_ have shown her a modicum of chivalry by allowing her to be sheltered for one night.

Sure they may be losers…but polite losers anyhow.

With this nagging thought keeping her from maiming them in their sleep, she huffed at it like the big inconvenience it was. She returned to her pungent bedding only to pick up her shoes and dress, bundling it all up in her arms before ascending through the gaping wall.

Just before she launched herself off into the breaking dawn, she remembered yet another thing. It was something that she always reminded herself – every morning she woke up, and every night she'd go to sleep:

' _Owe them nothing.'_

As a matter of integrity both professional and personal, she kept herself alive with the resolve _never_ to put herself in the debt of someone else. Not after…

' _You have forgotten yourself._ _ **Everything…'**_ There was that voice again – echoing through her ears like before.

"Tch…!" She shook it violently out of her mind. "I didn't forget jack shit…"

She glared passively at Saitama from over her shoulder where he was still reclining. His mouth hung open to make way for a somewhat tension-diffusing snore.

She snorted softly at his crude sleeping manner and shut her eyes in a sharp, focused blink. A shimmer radiated across the room, and she at last turned to leave for good.

As she departed, she muttered one last thing under her voice.

"We aren't done with each other yet…B-Class Baldy."

Swift and silent, she continued to elevate upward into the sky with her belongings, shrinking into the distance until the orange sunrise finally consumed her shape.

* * *

"Unacceptable!"

The pillow that Genos held in a crushing bear-hug burst under the immense pressure, causing feathers to scatter all over. Unnoticed by him, the fluffy explosion messed up his hair, causing spiky blond strands to stick up.

Saitama had his pinky finger jammed up in his ear to staunch the volume of his roommate's anger. "Dude, relax. Drink some tea."

"Discourteous!" The cyborg would not be quelled. "Uncouth! R-Rude…!" After he rattled his brain empty of synonyms, Genos grew quiet and still, then proceeded to amble over and sit cross-legged on the other side of the broken table, still clutching the demolished pillow in his arms. A few stray feathers still clung to him.

The cyborg took a long pause to stare at an invisible object in the corner of the room, ashamed to look at Saitama's face. After a long minute of silence, he peeked over at his teacher from the corner of his eye and confessed something startling.

"…I popped a pillow."

"I can see that…" Saitama cupped his hands around his heated beverage, closing his eyes before taking an exasperated sip. He didn't brew enough chamomile this morning… Not for _this_ crap. "Can't you just be happy that she kept her word and turned the power back on?"

"I am sorry, Master." Genos spoke plainly. "But I cannot abide Tornado's disrespectful behavior. We opened our home to her, you let her wear one of your favorite shirts, and she did not return so much as the courtesy of a handwritten sentiment before she left."

"That's what you were expecting? This isn't some shōjo slice-of-life manga you know…"

Genos slammed a metal fist down on the rickety table in protest. "Well perhaps it _should_ be!"

The two of them grunted at the sound of cracking wood where the cyborg's fist just landed. A second later, the legs of the table completely caved in and the entire structure collapsed into a pile. The poor piece of furniture finally had enough.

Genos hung his head in renewed shame while Saitama just stared at him blankly. "Okay, you know I was going to make that sci-fi looking thing pay for that, but now I don't feel so bad about just letting _you_ handle it."

Genos couldn't muster the courage to look at him. "I…I will."

Taking another sip of his drink, Saitama glanced over at the open hole where the outside landing used to be. "You think she made it back home okay? That kid?"

Genos closed his eyes with resentment. "Unfortunately, I do. She is Rank 2, after all."

Saitama tried to disarm him with a light grin. "Jeez, Tin Man, have a _heart._ She came all the way to our city before losing that thing she was hunting, and then to top it all off, she lost to a B-Class hero too. Think about how that would feel if it were you."

Genos was about to answer him, but a ringing sound went off in his pocket. He reached into it and pulled out his cellphone, reading the text that had been left on it.

"Oh? What is it?" Saitama asked, curiosity piquing.

Genos deepened his scowl as soon as he finished scanning the words, and he slipped his phone back away. He turned to address his mentor with a dark look.

"We need to get to Headquarters. Now."

* * *

As the two stepped into the wide marble building, they were met with a huge crowd of people sitting in uniform rows of chairs no doubt laid out for them by the Association staff. The entire space was abuzz with chatter.

Saitama, clad in his proper hero outfit, felt a renewed sense of appreciation for just how large the Hero Association was. There were several hundreds of heroes lined up and awaiting the purpose of today's emergency assembly, but if he were to stumble upon them without knowing what was going on, he would've just assumed that he had wandered into a comic-con.

All shapes and sizes, colors and textures were in view, and it made him feel as though he and Genos were just two mere drops in the ocean designed to serve and protect all cities everywhere. For a brief moment, he thought about what it would be like if he got to know every single one of them as well as he knew Genos, but ultimately dismissed the logic as it would involve memorizing too many names. As he once heard a great philosopher remark with romantic cadence on the news channel: 'Ain't nobody got time for dat.'

If the message that Genos read to him was to be believed, every single hero from C to S was here, with very little exception. Since truancy to the meeting was to be met with immediate repercussion, the popular summation was that this was about something _pretty damn important._

The two exchanged glances and gave each other a reassuring nod as they stepped forward to merge into the mass. There, they sought out two vacant seats to make themselves at home on.

However, Saitama caught glance of someone already sitting and trying to flag them down. The person waved a gloved hand at him and the cyborg, and admittedly, neither of them recognized him at first. But upon a closer look, Saitama's face livened up into a wide grin, and the pair rushed up to meet the familiar stranger that was clad in his glorious biking gear.

"Mumen Rider, you slick son of a bitch!" He and his friend smacked gloves together in a bro-style handshake, making Genos wince from behind with slight envy. There was a special place in the bald hobbyist hero's heart for people who treated him to free meals. "Where've you been hiding?"

The top C-Class Cyclist of Justice leaned back in his seat, sporting a friendly chuckle. "If I was hiding from you, I wouldn't have tried getting your attention. Don't go giving yourself an ego now – not _all_ of us are afraid of you!"

"Oi, did you hear what this meeting was about?" Saitama inquired as he and Genos took their seats next to him.

Mumen shrugged. "Seems like everyone here got the same message." He added with a toothy grin, "Kinda' careless of the Association to copy and paste a text to us without even including that much detail, isn't it?"

"Well, we're here now. No sense in spiting them by leaving." Saitama leaned back in similar fashion to his bespectacled chum.

"Psst! Master…" Genos whispered from his left. When Saitama looked over to see what he wanted, the young synth pointed a cautionary finger away from the group center. He followed it all the way up to a familiar green glow set around a rather grumpy-looking creature that they felt as though they had seen only yesterday.

Apparently she had noticed them first, and when the cyborg compromised her position to the other hero, she flinched and hastened her gaze somewhere else. Then she ultimately flew off, disappearing from view.

Saitama silently motioned his mechanical companion not to worry about her.

Mumen Rider nudged the Caped Baldy in the side with his elbow. "Oh, I think it's starting."

A serious-looking line of black suits approached the front stage, stepping up one-by-one to the rising platform. There, they took their own seats arranged in a small row off to the side. Saitama counted ten attendants altogether. Among them, there was only one he recognized. It was Sitch, the Minister Officer of Justice who called the S-Class meeting just before the alien invasion that leveled City A.

Most of the other staff members had very distinctive features. He knew he wouldn't have to wait long before they were introduced, because he watched one of the staff members approach the podium with the eagle of the Association's logo plated on it.

The man who stepped up to it tapped against the microphone hanging over it a few times to test its quality and glanced out to look at his audience. At the sound of the booming mic, the chatter in the room slowly began to die down, and heads were turning to face the front.

The fear on the orator's face was quite palpable even from where Saitama sat, but then again, holding the attention of every known hero in the nation was sure to give anyone more than a little spot of stage fright.

Before he began, he took a moment to scratch his stubbly beard. He appeared to have a young face, but the long hours he must have endured helping to run the staff left him looking blatantly overworked.

"Th-thank you all for making it up here today for this mandatory meeting." The speech was off to a bit of a rocky start – the microphone did not do much to hide the nervous cracks that escaped his voice. Desperate to remedy the distraction, he quickly reached over to sip from a bottle of water before setting it back down to continue. "First off, we would like to apologize for taking time out of your Sunday. However…your staff has great faith in your understanding that we would not call absolutely _all_ of you out here if it wasn't for a very serious reason."

Saitama didn't know the man's face, but he recognized his voice. It was the same guy he spoke to on the phone right before he went out to confront that Deep Sea Whatever. Without his permission, he probably wouldn't have found the monster in time to save all those people.

The man paused for a moment to take a deep breath. "We also understand that with the city streets left unpatrolled by heroes, it is paramount that we make this assembly meeting as short as possible by—"

"Well then just get to the point for Chrissake!" Anyone who spent five minutes around the tough-sounding voice knew exactly who it belonged to. "I had to duck outta' another of my sister's piano recitals for this mess goddamn it!"

"Oh enough about the recitals already, you jersey sis-con." Another voice called out. "You're starting to make the expression 'batting for the other team' sound like a best-case scenario!"

"Neh?! The hell said that?!"

A third voice joined in. "Can you guys just let the man talk? Some of us have cram school, you know…"

" _I'll_ give ya something you can cram…!"

"Guys, please, calm down! Is this any way for professional heroes to behave?"

"It is when they're supposed to be off-duty!"

The speaker closed his eyes and cleared his throat in an attempt to subdue the chaos threatening to boil over. He achieved very little success – the ball had already started rolling too fast.

"You're all acting like spoiled brats! I'm invoking my authority as an S-Class to demote you all to the bottom rank of Class C, effective immediately!"

"What the hell? S-Classes have no such authority!...d-do they?"

"Like you have the right to call anyone a spoiled brat _,_ you beansprout midget!"

As more voices joined the shouting match, Saitama gave Genos a singular look of disdain. "Well, this won't end in a hurry, will it… I'm getting hungry too. I was hoping to swing by Old Man Bang's and cook a hot pot before his dojo closes, but it looks like now we won't be able to—"

"Master."

"Huh?"

Genos's eyes were shut in an almost haunting level of calm. After a moment of becoming one with his inner serenity, the cyborg re-opened them and flashed him a look of trust. "…Say no more."

As his devotee slowly rose to his feet, Saitama looked up at him with a worried expression. "Genos, what exactly are you planning to—"

 **=BOOM=**

Without missing a beat, the cyborg aimed the repulsor of his palm straight up and blasted a blood-orange laser with a six-foot diameter right through the roof of the building. Just by itself, the thunderous blare of the shotgun from Hell was enough to rattle everyone in the room – even the most composed of the S-Class supers.

" **EVERYONE SHUT THE FUCK UP!"** Genos had the frenzied look of pure, unadulterated rage scrawled across his face. The golden pupils of his eyes burned hot with murder inside of their pitch-black sclera. "SENSEI IS GETTING HUNGRY AND NEEDS HIS HOT POT! THE NEXT PERSON TO DISRUPT THE FLOW OF THIS ASSEMBLY WILL BE MET WITH EXTREME AGGRESSION! I WILL BLACKEN YOUR FLESH AND LIQUIDATE YOUR ORGANS! THEN I WILL USE THE EXCESS HEAT OF YOUR REMAINS TO FUEL MY MASTER'S NEXT MEAL AND YOUR CHARRED BONES TO GREASE MY FLEXILE JOINTS IN YOUR COAGULATED FLUIDS!"

Following this tiny outburst, the entire arena fell as silent as the grave. Saitama was actively trying to make himself as small as possible with a hand shielding his face, mortified by his neighbor's lack of subtlety. Everyone who was standing immediately took back their seats while Genos held his pose with his arm pointed up just a bit longer for lasting effect. He looked around the room before casually sitting down himself, placing both hands neatly on his lap with a mild manner that defied everything he spouted in the last half minute.

He turned to Saitama and gave his mentor a stoic thumbs-up, confident that he had done every correct thing in the book to handle the situation. His bald and unwitting accomplice responded by turning to face the other way with an awkward, crooked grin. ' _You don't have to look so pleased about threatening an army of metahumans...'_

The association staff member that had been pushed to the side took the moment to pick up the mic and speak again with a refreshed understanding for how Genos acquired the 'Demon' part of his hero name. "Ahem…yes, thank you for that timely intervention, Demon Cyborg… I guess…" The man loosened up his tie in an attempt to let some cool air in. "My name is Shouta Yamamoto. I am a staff worker for the brand-new A-City Headquarters. May I present to you my associates…" He motioned to the well-dressed customers off to his right side. "First, my office partner, Kyle Hebert. Please stand for us, Kyle."

The man he was gesturing towards rose out of his seat and faced the assembly of heroes with a dignified smile. He looked even younger than the man introducing him, with neat hazel hair perfectly parted in the middle of his brow, and matching eyes that were obscured from behind a pair of circular eyeglasses. He gave the assembly a bow and sat back down.

"Next, Kanami Satō, an operator for Z Branch."

Even younger still than the other two, the girl who shot timidly to her feet looked like she could still be in high school. She had a bobbin hairstyle with brown hair that she wore at chin length. She stood with her arms rigidly stuck to her sides, regarding the large audience with a gulp before she too sat back down.

"Song Xing Xiao, of the Z Branch Committee Office…"

The man carried on with his introduction of each present member of the board, beginning seemingly with the low-ranking desk clerks, but eventually working his way up the list to the Special Committee and executive heavy hitters.

"Executive Chairwoman Michelle Deco."

The lady that stood upon call of her name was by all standards a gorgeous Caucasian with short dark hair swept to one side of her no-nonsense face and a small beauty mark resting under her mouth. Beneath her right eye was a blue tattoo underlining her lashes almost like some sort of druidic brand. She regarded everyone with an elegant bow and sat back down.

"And finally, may I present to you the board member responsible for organizing today's meeting… Executive Chairman and Officer of the Party Planning Committee, Sekingar. I will now be turning the floor over to him. Please give him your full attention."

As the last man at the end of the stage stood up and paced evenly towards the center to meet Yamamoto in the middle, Saitama leaned over and whispered to Genos. "Officer of the Party Planning Committee? So he's like a cop in charge of remembering everyone's birthday?"

"I think you may be misinterpreting the title, Master." The cyborg replied. "Sekingar-sama is one of the most influential directors on the board. His main responsibility is calculating compatibilities between heroes and applying them to arrange team sorties."

"So a dodgeball coach then."

"…What?"

"Nothing."

Among all the committee members introduced, the man of interest seemed to be on a whole separate plane of existence. He wore a distinguished air of ambition on his shoulders, and every step he took up to the podium was carried with unwavering purpose.

When he turned his profile full-front to address the league in front of him, his features were laid bare for all to see. He stood at least a good head taller than most of his peers, and his well-toned frame neatly filled out the black business suit he wore. His short brown hair was combed back, underlined by the somber features of his face. He had strong cheekbones and a mouth that seemed utterly incapable of smiling. Overall, a real "grim reaper" type of guy.

But easily the most noticeable of his traits was his signature metal prosthetic right eye, gleaming out at everyone with sleepless vigilance. Everyone who had seen Sekingar's unique oculus just once had never forgotten who he was. His cold half-human stare was a staple of what made the executive board so mysterious.

With a straight face, he shook hands with Yamamoto who was stepping off, and took control of the stand.

"Some of you living near the scene of the incident are already aware." Sekingar's voice was a parallel opposite from the previous speaker's. His tone was deep, calm, and straight to business. "Last night at just around twenty-one hundred hours, Child Emperor's security net at Y-City picked up a strange variant of electromagnetic interference that seemed to function independently from natural lightning storms. He couldn't triangulate its point of origin, because the source kept pacing around on power lines– like a caged _animal._ " In response to this, a few voices in the audience whispered quietly among themselves. The stoic man ignored the chatter and continued. "With no appeal for logic, we can only assume this activity to be part of some kind of attack. We do not yet know if this is the product of terrorism, a monster, or something else entirely. At this time, the media can only offer conjecture to the public, but with Metal Knight's permission, we managed to convince them that he merely suffered a misfire while testing some new EMP tech. We have already issued a formal apologetic statement." He stopped speaking for a moment to pull out a stack of papers and set them on the podium.

Taking advantage of the distraction, a voice called out from the front row. It appeared to be Stinger, from Class A. "Why lie to the public about this thing? That's like some next-level _government conspiracy_ shit going on right there."

A few voices in the crowd seemed to murmur their agreement.

Sekingar cleared his throat nonchalantly. "Tell me something… Do you believe that people are designed to act rationally under fear or pressure?" His question was met only with silence and hard stares. "In times of war and terror, the moment people can no longer feel the arm of the law shielding them, their basic human compulsion overrides their pretense to act civil. Order gets thrown out the window. It turns ugly in minutes. People loot. They trample each other to escape. They leave loved ones behind. Those of you who have fought anything from a Tiger to Dragon-level threat know exactly what panic does when it proliferates to nearby pedestrians. Sometimes in the interest of preserving the peace, we are forced to withhold information that the public couldn't use for their benefit even if they had it."

Puri-Puri Prisoner decided to steer the topic in a different direction. "Has the power returned to all the affected cities?"

"It has." Sekingar confirmed. "The last affected area was restored three hours ago. I had Child Emperor and Metal Knight work together to do a full-scale recon of every city under our jurisdiction. They used special cameras designed to spot irregularities in the light spectrum. But what those cameras picked up…was something more troubling."

To demonstrate his point, Sekingar turned away from the podium to face the solid wall behind him. He touched a finger to the side of his head, and his prosthetic eye lit up. In a show of technological achievement, a light beamed out of the iris and projected a huge image on the wall for all the heroes to see. The man was like a walking movie theater.

Illuminated on the wall, they saw feed from the camera. For a few seconds, the image just showed a normal street corner. But then the image began to blur and distort. Different colors came flying in, and something at the edge of the picture visible rippled. A few seconds more, and a burst of light caused the image to go black.

Before the viewers of the footage could be given time to speculate, Sekingar rewinded the digital clip and played it forward in super slow motion. As the mysterious light reappeared, he paused the footage with expert timing, catching its shape in a single frame.

A sense of familiarity swept across Saitama and Genos. And somehow, they got the feeling that Tatsumaki was reaching a similar conclusion.

Without a doubt, it was the same creature that had visited them just last night.

"The figure that knocked out the camera showed up in only three frames." Sekingar informed the crew. "That's a fraction of a second. Whatever this thing is, it can move. And we speculate that it's responsible for the strange events of last night to early morning." He stopped projecting from his eye and turned back to face the assembly of heroes. "Luckily the camera it struck was only being held by one of Metal Knight's drones. If it happened to be any of you…I shudder to think."

"Well if the electricity really has returned to all the cities, maybe it's already moved on." Lightning Max suggested, raising his voice just to be heard from the distance.

Sekingar closed the only real eye he still had with lament. "I wish it were true. But just after we thought things had returned to normal, we received another report from Metal Knight. After he recovered the drone that the mysterious being made contact with, his entire laboratory started to display odd behavior. His whole network became compromised by some sort of virus that ate through all his firewalls and security in less than a minute. And he claims that whatever had gotten inside his server…spoke to him."

"And how does that concern us?" Tatsumaki asked, crossing her arms impatiently. "It's _his_ mancave. If he can't fix it himself, tell him to call Geek Squad or something."

"That's the thing," the one-eyed man returned, "this virus managed to break into something that…by all standards shouldn't even be _breakable._ The technology needed to completely bypass his custom-optimized Silverswitch Skynet Program simply isn't available, not even to the Black Market. It took all of our combined efforts and resources just to keep it quarantined in that lab. But who knows how far or fast it could spread if we gave it half the chance to."

"If it's the internet you're talking about losing," Atomic Samurai spoke up, "then good riddance. Mankind was doing just fine before all this new-age crap came along."

"You don't understand." Child Emperor cut in. "Things like this always start small. Like having trouble streaming videos or being locked out of your Myplace account," four mechanical spider-like legs emerged from the boy's backpack, and he used them to navigate over the heroes into an open space. "but think about what the world-wide Web has evolved into. Online banking. National secrets. Nuclear codes. Cram school e-books."

Virtually everyone heaved a small scoff at the prodigy. His suggestions seemed to escalate in extremes until he hit that last note.

"Did…did you really just prioritize school over Hiroshima and Nagasaki?" Someone else asked him wearily.

"So then what do you guys expect _us_ to do about it, huh?" Metal Bat posed rhetorically. "Do I look like someone equipped to handle machines through any means other than to bash 'em with this fuckin' stick? Why'd ya bring us here?"

Sekingar gave his eyes a tired rub before elaborating on the point of the assembly. "Because early this morning, I received an anonymous tip saying that last night, three heroes came into contact with this very threat, but instead of combining forces to subdue it, they fought against each other instead. I have elected to honor my source by agreeing not to share their identities."

Saitama and Tatsumaki both winced from opposite sides of the room. There was a slightly open possibility that he was referring to them.

"The only pertinent information for me to share is that one of them was in B-Class and the other two were in S-Class."

The "slightly" open possibility just blew _completely_ open – it was definitely them.

"Keh! What kind of careless dumbasses would choose to fight their allies instead of their enemy?" Stinger snickered.

Sweat started to run down the "anonymous" heroes' cartoonish faces.

Sekingar continued with his disclosure. "Today we may be faced with an adversary that we have no conventional means to fight, and that is chiefly because of the dissension between the only people who had an opportunity to stop it. And this isn't even the first report of poor coordination either. The executive staff spent all morning discussing what should be done, and it occurred to all of us that while each of you was evaluated on what it means to be a hero by _yourself,_ we have neglected to reinforce the importance of cooperating with your peers – be they friends or rivals…acquaintances or complete strangers." The man's serious face quickly became even less pleasant. "In a business where lives are constantly threatened, you need to be more than colleagues. You need to be _family_ to each other. And if that means I have to be your austere father and put my foot down, then that's what I'll do to ensure that this institution lives up to its original promise." He leaned forward over the podium and uttered the next words into the microphone with slow and poignant emphasis. "To preserve. The peace."

The long strong silence that spread across the room had a number of contributing factors. Respect and fear were two definite ones. No one could rebuke what the man was saying, simply because the congealed way he said it made them believe in their hearts that they had no right to. He stood out to them as a natural-born superior. And you don't confront your superiors.

"How you treat each other should not be held accountable by rank, class, creed, or lifestyle. You serve a cause greater than yourselves, and your priorities need to start reflecting that." He held the papers in front of him high up in the air. "You see these documents?" He received a series of nods and verbal affirmation. "Take a good look, because these files will be your homework assignment for the next few years. Effective after today, we are inaugurating a new mandatory program. We call it the Rule of Two. Many of you are probably wondering what exactly this plan entails."

Saitama raised his hand. This genuine gesture sort of surprised Sekingar, but he reluctantly gave the B-Class hero a soft nod, letting Saitama know that he had permission to speak.

"Is it a new law prohibiting the use of more than two condiments on a single hotdog?"

The executive chairman blinked at him, uncertain if he was joking or not. "No…"

"Is it a new law stating that you have to refill the coffee pot if you're the last one to use it?"

Sekingar cleared his throat. "Well that would be considered a common courtesy, but no…"

"Is it a new regulation stating that each of us has to take turns buying toilet paper for the faculty bathrooms?"

The posh man being bombarded with ridiculous guesses ignored the giggling coming from various places around the assembly. "Why don't you just…let me explain."

"Oh." Saitama pouted softly. "None of those were right?"

The older gentleman took his eye off of him and glanced upward to regard the whole room. "The Rule of Two is the new policy of team match-ups. Upon careful review of hero dossiers, my committee's role will be to pair you up with new partners based on the qualities of your rank, abilities…and temperament."

Heroes in the room started looking all around at each other, already wondering – or dreading – who they might be matched with.

"After announcing your formation, you will be tasked to remain in close proximity with your partner at all times – both on _and_ off duty. The reason for this is to establish a natural rapport with each other, not just as respective heroes, but as individuals. For this first rotation, we are assigning each A-Class hero to work with at least one C-Class hero, and for each S-Class hero to be appointed at least one B-Class hero."

This caused quite a stir in the audience. In just a short debriefing, the executive officer had singlehandedly raised a number of concerns. Chief among them, living conditions. If they were required to stay together, then there would be some massive power shifts in the many cities that the heroes occupied.

As if this worry was corporeal enough for the man to read, Sekingar added, "We know that many of you are concerned about adapting to the new changes this arrangement will bring. However, let me assure you that options do exist. With the construction of the new HQ building, we are willing to provide housing to all heroes that for any reason cannot settle together on their own. You will still need to pay a monthly rent, but we have ensured that each living quarter in the building is spacious enough to accommodate at least two people. However, since space is still relatively limited, we ask that you only take advantage of this offer if you absolutely must. The headquarters is not an apartment complex."

"And what if we don't like who we get paired with?" Tanktop Master inquired. "What if we refuse participation in this pet project?"

Sekingar frowned at the label that the burly man gave it, but answered his question regardless. "There is no such option. That's why I mentioned that it's mandatory. If you do not sign these consent forms provided at the end of this briefing, you will be considered absent to this assembly and suspended without pay. If you do sign it and are later caught refusing to uphold the agreement, the board reserves the right to permanently ban you from future work with us. Your name and rank will both be scrubbed."

"So you would fire us for preferring to work alone?" Drive Knight asked in his cold, impersonal voice. Other heroes seemed to support his question with varying degrees of outrage.

Sekingar met his mechanical eye with the mechanical one of his own. "To ensure that this faction maintains the level of integrity needed to keep the world safe? We do what we must, Drive Knight." The hero being addressed straightened up with his arms crossed and a featureless expression that did well to hide his reaction. After all, having practically no face meant having the best poker face in Class S – next to King, of course; nobody could read King.

Not wanting to cause extra tension, the well-dressed man disengaged from the cyborg and took back control of the meeting. "All of you can either perceive this as simply punishment or the opportunity that it represents. Because while you're all busy thinking of the restrictions, you mustn't overlook the perks that this will bring too."

"What perks?" Another voice shouted from the crowd.

"Recognition." He replied. "This is an opportunity for lower class heroes to capture the eye of the media. Whenever your pair is dispatched for a mission, C and B-Class heroes have a statistically higher chance to promote their images by being seen by the public and earn special privileges in exchange for smooth cooperation. This has been a complaint among lower rankings for a long time, and now we are taking measures to address it. Meanwhile, higher class heroes have the added benefit of sewing strong connections. S-Classes may be in a good spot of their career right now, but bear in mind that the future is never certain. Even the strongest person in the world may one day need to lean on someone else's shoulder. It might as well be one of the friends you'll make."

Like many other heroes, Saitama took a quiet moment to digest this. It did seem to make sense to him, but he knew that there were several more people in the ranks who were sure to disagree. Whether they thought this was a good idea or not, the Hero Association was taking an insane gamble. Even if it paid off, their numbers were sure to suffer. But perhaps the board of executives just saw that as a chance to cull less subordinate members from the association and save some money in the process.

Sekingar took advantage of the temporary relief from complaints in order to close the meeting. "Waiting for you near the exits are copies of these documents. All heroes of every class will be expected to submit a detailed critique of their partner at the end of each week. Reviews will be due every Sunday before midnight. All instructions for how to do this are included in the print. I will take a moment for further questions, and then I will turn over the podium to Executive Michelle Deco, who will provide the assigned pairings for all of the Class S/B heroes."

After hosting his feedback session, the imposing man excused himself from the stand, and Michelle stepped on.

Reading off of the paper in front of her, the woman began pouring names into the microphone with a clear sustaining voice.

"For S-Class Rank 17, Puri-Puri Prisoner will be assigned with B-Class Rank 50, Darkness Blade."

"Eyyyyaaaay~" Prisoner squealed his glee with a girly demeanor far from matching his masculine features. "I get to go on quests with my dark prince~!"

Some distance away, the young man clad in black armor slapped a gloved hand over his face. His spiked gauntlet left bloody scratches on him, but he ignored the damage as he let it slide down. "Fuck my life." He muffled dismally through his fingers.

"For S-Class Rank 16, Tanktop Master will be assigned B-Class Rank 25, Pink Hornet. For S-Class Rank 15…"

She continued down the list while Saitama, Genos, and Mumen Rider all pushed their heads together.

"Well, today sure is taking an odd turn of events." Saitama stated casually.

"Master, do you suppose this means we will no longer be able to see each other?" Genos asked.

"I wouldn't worry too much about that," Mumen replied, "you guys are already thick as thieves. I'm sure that the Association is more concerned about building relationships between the heroes that have never interacted with one another before."

"I have an unsettling feeling about how things will proceed from here." Genos warned them.

"You seriously need to learn to relax." Saitama dismissed. "People have good days and bad days, but no matter what, everything always turns out fine. This particular day will just…happen to be a few years long, that's all."

"If you insist, Sensei."

The three turned back to tune in to the matchmaking. After listening a bit longer, Genos grimaced when he realized that he had missed the name of who he was assigned to. For the time being, it seemed he would have to live with a bit of mystery.

"Rank 3 of S-Class Silver Fang will be assigned to B-Class Rank 74, Lily of the Three Section Staff, along with Rank 71, Captain Mizuki. And finally, for S-Class Rank 2…"

Tatsumaki winced. She happened to be on the side of the fence that thought this was a horrible idea. Forget the fact that she didn't particularly like _any_ of these people, forcing her to play House with someone else went directly against her moral philosophy about maintaining distance. She had been taking care of herself ever since she enlisted, and she was contented to remain living that way. So no matter what the staff asked her to do, she had no intention of playing nice with whatever unlucky soul ended up glued to her hip.

With an unwelcoming scowl, she opened her ear to the final verdict.

"Tornado of Terror is assigned with B-Class Rank 7…Caped Baldy."

The temperature in the room fell twenty degrees, and the distant sound of shattering glass echoed out of the background.

Other heroes began chatting to their neighbors, expressing intrigue at the staff's choice for pairings. Some of them expressed sorrow for Caped Baldy. The poor little guy wouldn't last the first day with her.

As Deco indifferently carried on to the list of A and C-Class pairings, Genos dropped his jaw with a sharp gag, and if it wasn't held together by his synthetic skin, it would have surely hit the floor.

From their separate sides of the massive room, the Tornado and Baldy both stood frozen in the moment; the exact same thought panging through their heads:

' _This can_ _ **not**_ _be happening…'_

 **A/N: If it hasn't already shown, I put a whole shitload of research into this chapter. Since some of the board committee members haven't yet been given proper names in the web series, I decided to give them the names of their voice actors. If you happened to notice this on your own, well done. You have achieved a heightened state of obsession by surpassing mine.**


	3. Heroes Try

**Disclaimer: I do not own One-Punch Man.**

 **Chapter 3: Heroes Try**

Once the executives slammed down the proverbial gavel to adjourn the meeting, the majority of the gathered heroes stood up, and the chatter picked up with redoubled vigor. Still a few of them remained seated, presumably either frozen with shock at their new pairing or just trying to process their next move. Others immediately stormed out of the hall without even bothering to collect their assignments stacked at the door. Under the persuasion that they hadn't forgotten why they were there in the first place, everyone else deemed it safe to assume that they were giving the association their unspoken resignation.

Still with his two companions, Saitama gave the arena a few passive sweeps of his eye, and after spotting what he was searching for, his eyebrows raised at the unexpected sight that the newest addition to his unlucky life hadn't been one of the ones that had bolted.

High up in the rafters, the small definitive shape of a girl drifted above the rest of the crowd. From the distance he couldn't read her expression, but he noted that her frame was no longer encased in the aura of vibrant green that he saw around her at the beginning of the meeting. Rather, she appeared more…grey. In the bald hero's unsophisticated mind, that either meant that she was experiencing a loss of spirit…or a wicked spot of indigestion.

But for all the physical limitations Saitama had crushed, tragically none of them gave him wings of any kind, and unless he wanted her first impression of him as her new partner to involve leaping up at her from out of nowhere and forcibly dragging her down to Earth by her ankles, he had no real means of approaching her. All he could really do was wait for her to come down on her own.

Saitama broke away from her when he felt a hand land on his shoulder.

"So you pulled the winning ticket, eh?"

Saitama turned to see who was talking. He was met with Mumen Rider flashing him one of his signature reassuring smiles that won him the hearts of so many loyal fans. As far as Saitama was concerned, the Cyclist of Justice stood out as one of the most distinguished heroes in the association, rankings be damned. He embodied a lesson that most people had now forgotten, even though Saitama thought it was one of the most basic understandings since he learned it as a child. You don't need to win every fight in glorious one-sided fashion or leap tall buildings in a single bound to be called 'hero.' If that was really all there was to it, people would have no less reason to fear heroes than the monsters they fight.

Being a hero, as Mumen Rider understood it, was a principle – not a power. And that principle was upheld with every cat he shook from a tree, every old lady he escorted across a street, and every bully he stood up to – even if that sometimes meant getting knocked down so that someone else didn't have to. His confrontation with the Deep Sea thing – however one-sided – taught Saitama everything he would ever need to know about him. He loved the people he protected, and he didn't do it for the fame, money, obligation, or even because he "felt like it" the way Saitama did. They weren't fans to him; they were his friends. And at this point, Saitama wouldn't be surprised if he could recall most of them by name. How he envied _that_ superpower.

Saitama gave him a stare. "Winning ticket?" He deadpanned, awed by his friend's optimism. "I don't think this is the kind of lottery I'm into."

His statement was returned with a few reassuring pats. "Come on now, don't go feeling sorry for yourself, I hear lots of awesome things about Miss Tatsumaki."

" _Miss_ Tatsumaki?" Saitama spat, his face running sour. "Are you for real? How do you get off calling _her_ that when I have yet to hear so much as a single 'Mister Baldy-sama' out of you?"

The Rider sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. "Us little guys, we still owe the big kahunas at least _some_ respect. And you heard Sekingar, it might not be a bad idea to kiss the ring once or twice…"

"I get _mutual_ respect and all," Saitama followed, "but if your approach is to call them gushy stuff like that, you my friend are _deep-throating_ that ring."

While the response invoked a hearty chuckle out of the cyclist hero, Saitama felt yet another hand fall on his opposite shoulder, though this one felt much colder and had a tighter grip.

When Saitama turned once again to see who Guest Number 2 was, he found Genos clinging to his cape in some sort of effort to show his support. …Or maybe it was condolence? He couldn't really tell, but either way, his friend's face was morbidly dark with eyes sunken behind a pitch-black shadow.

"It would be no trouble." Genos uttered after a beat of uncomfortable silence, giving his role model one of the most forced, unnatural winks fathomable. How he managed not to break half his face off by doing it was beyond anyone.

Saitama blinked back at him. "Huh?"

"Helping you" **Wink** "would be no trouble." **Wink Wink** "It is not unheard of for people to go missing, even if the bodies themselves are never recovered."

"Wait…are you suggesting what it sounds like you're suggesting?" Saitama asked in a voice leaking a small amount of the disbelief he felt.

"I do not recall providing any sort of suggestion," Genos continued casually, "but should you require my assistance with anything…" The metal hand on his shoulder squeezed even tighter, " _Anything…_ " His tone tinged with poison, "perhaps now is the time to briefly shut your left or right eye if either of them itch. People would understand; it is the allergy season, after all."

"Yeah…" Saitama replied awkwardly, "Spring sucks, but I'm still not signaling a wink to let you think it's okay to murder my partner."

Genos raised a hand to his mouth in some sort of overdramatic attempt to feign surprise, which was weird when coupled with the fact that his face remained dead of any kind of emotion. "Master! What an unprecedented thing to say, even as a joke." The next thing the cyborg said sounded more passive and automatous – like he was reciting it directly from a script. "All human life is sacred. My prerogative as a hero is to protect and serve, and God as my witness, it is most emphatically not aimed at the abrupt not to mention mysterious termination of other heroes, especially those of the bratty green-haired variety. Therefore, to hear you suggest otherwise…I am utterly beside myself."

Saitama's expression remained unmoved and unconvinced by his small speech. "You are… You really are."

While the small circle continued to chat, none of them took notice of a huge muscular man in a striped prison uniform sauntering past, dragging off an unfortunate black knight by his ankles. In a show of unwillingness to go, said knight had his clawed gauntlets dug into the floor, but all he could do was leave behind a long trail of scratches in the marble as he went. With the sumptuous booty of a gorgeous male on the line, all resistance was futile before the alpha jailbird they call Puri-Puri Prisoner, as Darkness Blade happened to be the latest in line to learn.

"I don't know anything about your partner either, Mumen." Saitama mentioned. "His name sounds cool though. A little edgy for my tastes, maybe. He around?"

In acknowledgement of his question, the bicyclist flattened a hand above his eyes as he peered around the crowd. On his mission to spot his new compadre, he saw that several other heroes were already a step ahead – shaking hands, taking bows, swapping info, and occasionally shooting off the 'I-Already-Can't-Stand-Your-Guts' glare at each other.

One particularly amusing sight was the exchange of willful auras between Tanktop Master and Pink Hornet. They were leaned in maliciously towards one another with their hands pressed against their hips, and when he noticed the low growls and the visible line of electricity violently jutting from one pair of eyes into the other, all Mumen Rider wanted to do was stay far away from whatever explosion their chemistry was sure to bring. Tanktop might be the top dog of his gang, but Hornet got her name for a reason too – she could _sting._ And with a title like "The Shopping Street of Techniques," she was in every way the perfect counter to all of the manly habits that her new partner adhered to. An ensuing Clash of the Titans right there for sure.

There were other notable glimpses too. Since both heroes were in the same class and thus fated to split, Spring Mustachio and Golden Ball were clinging together in a sorrowful good-bye hug, almost weeping as they did so. Metal Bat was sizing Pandaman up with a dirty, thuggish look, and Pandaman – who quite lived up to his reputation in the black and white animal costume – was returning his aggressive advance with a stoic, soul-piercing gaze of his own. Narcisstoic and Mohican were taking turns dissing each other's hair, while Atomic Samurai's star pupil Iaian was taking desperate measures just to keep his new acquaintance, Horse-Bone, from eating his.

Mumen Rider continued to count heads in the room, stopping short only when his gaze landed on a person toting a weapon so imposing that it could only fit the name he had heard announced as his partner.

"Yo!" He called out with a bright sunny smile, waving sincerely at the tall figure looming next to the door. "Death Gatling! That's you, isn't it? Over here!" Saitama and Genos both peered where the inviting gesture was directed toward.

The man he was calling to seemed indeed to live up to his name in just about as many aspects as the name itself had letters. The long, colorless cloak draped around his body was absolutely shredded from years of gratuitous violence, and hidden beneath that, he wore an assortment of hard leathers which was even harder to see beneath all the girthy belt buckles wrapped around his torso. In fact, it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that he didn't just wear belts on his undercoat – he wore them _as_ his undercoat.

The tool he came to class with was long enough for him to lean on – a modified firearm with eight rotary cannons, each barrel nearly the size of a rocket launcher. The monster machine that he carried around was adorned with wire barbing around the lock cylinder, and the main body was crudely lined with scars, indicating that the weapon had more than once doubled as a shield to block attacks.

But the gun wasn't the only thing about him with large scratches on it. The lone gunman's face had a huge, perfectly cross-shaped gash covering the entire left side, running from his chin to his eye, and stretching clear across the bridge of his nose to touch the other cheek. His hair, blacker than night, was long and unkempt, drifting lightly like feathers; yet like everything else about the man, each strand seemed sharp enough to cut and pierce on its own.

Besides the way he was mummified in more belts than a chuunibyou's online avatar, the other thing that creeped Saitama out the most about him was his expression: he had the meanest resting bitchface he had ever seen, and this was coming from a history of living with Genos. His brow was born down into a deep scowl that seemed just as permanent as his facial injuries. The pupils of his eyes were light and clear as crystal, and really, he didn't need bullets when he could just drill a bloody hole right through someone with a look like that.

At first glance, Genos and Saitama were already developing their own theories for Death Gatling's unyielding glower. Genos, ever the expert at heart, could sense that the man had undergone a long series of traumas and tragedies, just as he had deduced about Sweet Mask the day he watched him "execute" the alien stragglers they captured after the attack. Everyone experiences grief in their own way, and when grief exceeds your capacity to hold it in, that's when it bursts out, and suddenly everyone else knows that it's just as real as you do. It gives you a new shape. For Genos, it took away his skin and gave him metal. For Sweet Mask, it gave him two-color vision; black and white. To him, people were either ugly or beautiful – evil or fair. And for Death Gatling…grief must have meant dressing like a menace, speaking softly, and carrying a big-ass gun.

Saitama had a slightly different theory. Upon thorough scrutiny of Death Gatling's character with a Super Serious Stare (he looked at him for ten seconds without blinking), he carefully calculated (he guessed) that the reason the man appeared so troubled was because he was haunted by the vengeful spirits of however many cows had been sacrificed to accessorize his costume. Saitama could relate to a lesser degree. When he was younger, he smashed a spider and afterwards had a lingering paranoia that all the little guy's fellow spider-folk would come after him for the murder of their ilk. Many following nights had gone unslept.

Death Gatling was standing at the side of the doorway, and when he turned to see that it was an enthusiastic Mumen Rider ushering him, he let out a "Tch" sound that was barely audible, and after effortlessly slinging his massive signature weapon over his shoulder, he turned his back to the three and made his exit.

Mumen Rider lowered his waving arm with some discouragement when he noticed that the higher-class hero hadn't even given the stack of assignments a small side glance before pushing his way through the glass doors.

Realizing the stress of both their positions, Mumen Rider hastened to the door after him, calling out to Saitama and Genos from behind. "Ahaha! Looks like I got a shy one, I'm sure that's all it is! You two should focus on finding your partners too! Let's meet up later, okay?!"

He didn't stop and wait for a response, instead ripping two copies of the assignment from the table as he blew past and out the door too.

His remaining two colleagues were left behind to stare blankly at the blazed trail that the cyclist had all but set on fire.

"Wow. He really can run at the speed of justice." Saitama blinked.

"Should we really leave him like that?" Genos asked. "I know that they are both heroes, but even so…what if Gatling seriously tries to kill him?"

His bald mentor let out an exasperated sigh, but smiled in spite of it. "I wouldn't worry too much about that biking guy. He's got enough integrity to charm the bullets from flying anywhere near him."

"Sensei," Genos smiled back at him, "does that mean you earnestly believe that Mumen Rider will find a way to convince Death Gatling to unbuckle all of the belts shielding his heart and open it up to reveal a truer, softer side of himself that he had secretly been hoping to share with the world all this time?"

Saitama raised an eyebrow at him. "Well, for starters: you watch too much Dizzni. For second starters: you watch too much anime. And for finishers, unless you're being proverbial about the belt thing - and I _seriously_ hope you are - there's no way Mumen Rider is breaking all the way through that goth party sitting on Gat's chest."

Genos's smile dimmed. "I see."

"What about _your_ partner?" Saitama casually shifted the topic.

"Ah!" Genos realized. "About that. We were so busy talking that I missed my pairing. Did you happen to catch it, Master?"

Saitama put a thoughtful finger to his chin. "Mmmm… Springboard Chicken."

Genos blinked in awe. "I see! I have the opportunity to fight crime alongside the third most consumed meat in the world. I must remember to chronicle the experience in my personal journal as well as in the reviews."

"Wait, I don't think that sounds right…" Saitama ignored the disappointed look on the cyborg's face as he continued to guess. "Slapping Sling…? No that can't be it either."

Realizing how his idol was with names, Genos decided to politely dismiss him. "I…It is all right, Master. I am certain I will find out soon enough."

Saitama persisted on the thought for a few more seconds, but eventually, it was pushed out by a brand-new thought that had just caught up with him. "Wait, chicken's only the _third_ most consumed meat?! I thought the reason everyone says something 'tastes like chicken' was because it was the most universal experience…"

Genos stayed on topic. "In truth, I am far more concerned about you, Master."

"Oh, me? Why focus on me?"

"Master, surely you understand the gravity of your own situation!" Genos was almost shouting. "The Hero Association has placed you with—"

"Me."

On cue, the two turned their heads towards the direction of the new voice. In a vacant clearing away from where other heroes were lining up to grab their copies and leave in pairs or small groups, a small but prominent ball of green ire wrapped in a flowy black dress descended from above and landed neatly a few paces from them. Not showing much discouragement from the outcome of last night, the Tornado of Terror had her hands pressed firmly into her waist, and looked as fierce as ever.

…That was, until they took notice of what was patching up her forehead, right where a certain baldy had earlier One-Poked it.

"Ooh, I like your accessory." Saitama smiled and pointed to the two small band-aids overlapping in a cross between her eyes. "You like MLP too? I figured I had you pegged for the unicorn type…"

Tatsumaki broke from her tough stare when she realized she forgot to remove the pink and purple bandages before leaving for the meeting. Not even thinking twice, she tore the cute and colorful _My Lovely Pegasus_ patch from her face in one swift motion. Immediately after, her eyes went wide and watery, and she turned away from the two to fight off screaming from the sudden onset of pain. She did an okay job, but not good enough to prevent a tiny high-pitched squeal from slipping past her puckered mouth.

Before things could get any weirder, she spun back around and retook her dominant pose with her arms still pressed into her same as before, though to a small degree of amusement from Saitama, she now had a puffy red X shape imprinted between her eyes, one of which was still twitching.

"Hmph!" She huffed. "What are you getting at? That show is for kids! It just…just happened to be the only thing I had around to use. Stop drawing your own conclusions."

"Do you live with younger children then?" Saitama inquired, choosing to humor the girl's attempt to put up a mature act.

"Children… That's…" Tatsumaki seemed to tense up at this word for a moment. "…That's none of your business!" After yelling this into his face, she shifted her glare to another face; one that was glaring right back at her with matched force. "And what are _you_ scowling at, Demon Side-bitch?"

Genos abruptly snapped his head away, but his face remained completely unchanged while he directed the same glare at some other unknown object.

"So how are we going to plan this?" Saitama asked, taking some of the heat off Genos. "Because if you wanna stay with me, you'll have to ask your parents if it's okay first."

"Ask…parents…" Tatsumaki's eyes widened with even more outrage at the suggestion. "Stay…with _you?!_ "

Even as she was fuming out of her ears, Saitama continued. "Well, I guess I could stay with you, but again, that would be up to your family. Also, I'd like there to be a Super-Mart store somewhere nearby, because the bodegas tend to have crappy produce."

"Shut up already!" Tatsumaki retorted. "I live by myself! I'm twenty-eight years old, asshole!"

"Now, now…" The caped hero gave her a calming gesture with his hands that did nothing to placate the minikin titan. "It's all right, you don't have to lie about your age to impress us; we'll still be your friends. We'll be her friends, won't we Genos?"

He looked to his composite companion for reassurance. A small growl of disapproval was all he got in reply from him.

" _Friends?!"_ Her voice raised even more, but when she noticed that it was turning heads of other heroes and staff members towards her, she stiffened up and made efforts to compose herself. Flying up to Saitama, she grabbed him by the front zipper of his suit, violently pulling him closer to whisper. "For calling us 'friends', you have a pretty fucking funny way of _showing_ it. Look at these bags under my eyes. Does it look like I got a goodnight sleep thanks to you?"

Saitama tilted his head to get a better look at her features. Even when she crackled with crazy psionic powers, her eyes still didn't appear as green from a distance as they did up close to him now. And when he saw that she wasn't exaggerating about the dark circles hanging under them, the only effort he made to defend himself was by saying, "Well you seemed to sleep a whole lot better after I gave you that fl— _MMPH_."

His speech was cut off by a small hand that she cupped over his mouth, bringing the pointer finger of her other hand up to her lips. _"Shh!"_ She hissed sharply.

But the angry whirring of charging energy drew her attention away to face Genos, whose rage had for the moment overthrown his fear of her. "How _**dare**_ you put your hands on Sensei like that!" He snarled. The two golden pupils of his eyes had now turned into targeting cross-hairs, both of which were focused on the sweetly-placed X rash that had yet to leave Tatsumaki's brow.

She broke away from the yellow suit and drifted closer to her other target. "Don't you ever get tired of me lobbing you up and down the street?"

The glowing lights on the cyborg's palms only deepened their red and grew brighter to show that he still wasn't backing down. No one disrespected his teacher. No one.

"Because let me give you some free advice…" Her hand ignited with viridian fire, causing a few nearby heroes to stagger away. "I don't care what new pet partner they assigned you. It's gonna take more than some jobber-fodder from Class B to keep me from improving your worth by converting you into paperclips."

"Are you certain?" Genos retaliated. "Because I suspect that a hero from B-Class surprised you not too long ago; in his _pajamas_ no less."

Tatsumaki kept her aggressive posture up, but her eyes shifted around to see other heroes watching the ensuing showdown. Her scowl deepened when she caught wind of some whispering questions as to what he meant, while staff members of the association seemed on the fence as to whether or not they should try to step in and intervene.

"You understand, don't you?" She turned back to face Genos, who was selective enough with his words to make it clear only to her that he would drag her name through the mud by blowing last night wide open. Since the staff hadn't released her identity in congress, he was reminding her that she still had something to lose. "We are standing on hallow ground. You cannot do anything here. But me…I can do _everything_ to you." His glare deepened. "Would you like me to show you what I mean?"

The cyborg and esper exchanged poker faces, never going so far as to bat an eye at one another. In truth, Genos didn't want to expose her encounter with them to the other heroes, because if he did, he knew that would mean exposing his master as well. She _could_ fall into line, but there was also a greater chance that she could call his bluff and rip him to Legos before he even got another word out – in which case he would learn in the hardest way imaginable that her pride ultimately outweighed her job.

The tension in the air grew thick, and in the heat of the moment, Tatsumaki seemed to forget that Saitama was still standing right behind her, instead concentrating on her new prey. Genos grimaced when he saw her green glow amplify into a great shine, and for that instant, he prepared to rejoin his family in the great hereafter.

Tatsumaki threw her arm out at him, intent on folding him like one of the makeshift chairs they sat on during the meeting. But just as Genos started feeling the immense pressure tightening around him, the esper gasped in shock.

A red glove had caught her around the wrist, cancelling out her focus instantaneously.

Tatsumaki froze up from the contact. On any other day in her life, if someone so much as accidentally brushed against her in passing, it was only because she allowed them to. Having been said, no one _ever_ touched her; least of all in such a forceful way.

She peered out at the baldy from the corner of her eye, and if looks could kill, her cold death stare might just have been the only thing in the universe that could eradicate Saitama. But that did nothing to ease his grip.

"Let." Her tone seemed casual, but its undertones were what made it truly horrifying. "Go."

"You need to stop and think for a second." Saitama replied firmly, but kept his voice low enough for only her to hear. "Think about where you are. Think about who can see you right now. If you attack Genos, then it's over for you. No more being a professional hero. It might even lead you to juvie."

"Bullshit." She snapped at him. "What would they even be without me? With Blast missing, I stand at the top. They need me."

"They don't need someone they can't control." He responded. "It's like being back in class. You may be the star pupil, but you'll never outshine the teacher. Don't make this any worse for us than it already has to be."

Tatsumaki bit her teeth down into a fanged grit. "I said…let…. _GO!"_

On the final word, she sent out a powerful shockwave in his direction. It was meant to throw Saitama a good distance from her, but she underestimated one thing: his tenacity. A person with common sense would have let go of her arm on reflex, but he still held her quite firmly. And with nothing to stop the insane centrifugal force, she had no choice but to go along for the ride with him as he flew.

The two shot across the massive meeting area, and fortunately the other heroes were sensible enough to give them a wide berth. Tatsumaki barely had time to process that they were heading straight into a reinforced marble wall. Ordinarily she could call on her power to form a kinetic shell around her body and ward off injury, but things were happening too fast and sudden for her to react properly. All she could do is shut her eyes tight and brace for a painful impact.

A thunderous noise rang out as they collided with the wall.

After the crash…silence. She felt no pain. How could she not be hurt? Had she died on impact? Was she now nothing more than a shattered stain decorating the building? Was the highlight of tomorrow's news going to be announcing her close-casket funeral?

Shaken, the esper slowly reopened one eye.

She found herself in an even more compromised situation, leaning up against something firm, yellow, and…warm?

She grunted in surprise when she realized what happened…and whose chest she was resting on. Luckily for her, Saitama had taken the split second they were flying to alter his trajectory and place himself between her and their destination. The wall they were pressed against had sustained extensive damage with large cracks spanning all directions away from them like a spider's web.

"Had your bout?"

She tilted her head up to stare at his face. He didn't appear to be hurt, or even angry with her. In fact…he didn't appear to be…really anything. At the range she was looking, all the stupid simplicities of his expression seemed to have vanished, replaced with a defined jawline, and deadly angular eyes.

After taking a few seconds to breathe in all the new details, she opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by someone else.

"Sensei!"

They saw two people rushing towards them. Besides Genos, who was obvious as always, the taller man next to him had a mean red glow emanating from his mechanical eye. Sekingar was furious.

"I have seen enough." He proclaimed in a scalding voice. "One more outburst like that, and I will expel all of you without a moment's hesitation. I don't care if you're a C-Class, S-Class, or a God-Level Disaster Threat. I will _not_ have you stirring up trouble for this association, _especially_ when you have the audacity to do so while I'm standing right here." He snapped his head to face Genos, who was still standing beside to him. "Am I clear, Demon Cyborg?"

Genos propped himself up straight like a soldier being issued. "Yessir!"

Slowly, the older man turned his head back to give the esper his thousand-degree stare. "And am I crystal clear with _you_ …Senritsu no Tatsumaki."

The girl gave a big swallow, but her mouth and throat had both run dry. She had officially had all and everything she could take.

Breaking away from Saitama, she broke the sound barrier as her green trail blasted straight past everyone still in the room, nearly deafening the majority, shattering the glass-pane doors, and destroying the table next to it which caused paper copies to scatter all over the wind.

Taking a few moments to recompose, the three men left behind stared at the destroyed exit and trail of destruction leading up to it. As if there was any room for doubt now, the Tornado of Terror had thoroughly fulfilled her namesake.

"Damn that woman…" Sekingar uttered under his breath with disdain. As if she didn't bring enough complications to the board, being one of the prime catalysts that caused the drastic reformation of the entire team structure. Less than sixty seconds with her new assignment, and _already_ there would be more paperwork.

He rejoined reality when he realized that a third of the assembly was still present, and all staring silently at him. "What are you all still loitering around here for?" He spoke loudly so that they could all hear. "This room is closed, and there's nothing more to see. Collect what you need and go home!"

With his command having moderate effect, the gawkers gradually turned to depart through the large gaping hole which up until just recently had a door attached to it.

He took notice of Saitama approaching him from behind as he dusted off his cape. "Mad sorry about the mess." The bald hero spoke, though his voice didn't really contain any sympathy.

Sekingar wanted to say something along the lines of _'Why are you the one apologizing when you were going to be the one stuck with her?'_ but realizing that the Caped Baldy shared equal responsibility in why this assembly was even necessary, the seasoned executive simply opted to remain silent.

Saitama searched for a way to diffuse the tension between him and arguably the most powerful individual – political-wise, anyway – standing in the room with him. He caught one of the papers still drifting in the air as it came down towards him. "Sooooo it didn't look like she left with her homework." Saitama spoke as he stared at the one in his hands.

Sternly, Sekingar crossed his arms and shut his eyes. "It would appear that she did not."

"If one hero decides not to participate," Saitama continued, "what happens to their partner, even if _they're_ willing to?"

"In the case of a non-mutual disbandment," the chairman answered, "the remaining hero will simply be joined to the party of my committee's next choice. We will not castigate heroes that still remain loyal to our regulations."

Saitama gave a light smile. "Oh good, that's a relief, I really appreciate not being castrated."

"Sensei, I believe he said _castigate._ " Genos tried correcting.

Saitama spared him a side glance. "Same thing, really."

The cyborg opened his mouth to respond, immediately closing it when he realized that his master wasn't entirely wrong.

"If you wish to register with another group," Sekingar continued, "this is your best opportunity. No one will fault you for wanting nothing to do with the Tornado of Terror."

"Well, about that…" Saitama rubbed the back of his neck.

"Hm?" The older man waited on elaboration.

"I can't really discuss what exactly happened between me and her…but she's…well, she's having a _really_ bad weekend. Yeah I'll admit she's a brat…but it doesn't really seem right to punish her so much just because she came in a crappy mood today."

"The decision was hers to lash out." Sekingar applied pragmatically. "And the decision was hers to storm out of the building while made aware of the consequences not to accept the terms of this agreement."

"Well, yeah, I totally get it." Saitama attempted to reason. "But that could've been anything, you know? In a fit of emotion, she might have forgotten, or maybe she just needs time to cool."

The tall man blinked at him. "Remarkable… You're actually defending her after she just put you through that wall right there? What kind of hero behaves this way?"

Saitama shrugged at him. "Same kind of hero that does it for fun, I guess?"

Sekingar deepened his stare at him, and after a quick assessment, he smirked for the first time since he introduced himself. "I see." But it didn't last more than a second before his grin dropped and his face became serious again. "All heroes have a 72-hour grace period before the mandate locks in. Enough time for everyone to make basic arrangements for the new change. That's exactly how much time you have to convince Tatsumaki to play nice. But if you cannot do that, ultimately you will have to let her go. No one can be exempt from the penalty of insubordination – not even our best assets."

Saitama knelt down to pick up a second copy of the appointed task. When he got back up, he casually looked square into the chairman's eye and said, "Heroes have to try."

Sekingar's eyes narrowed back at him. "But do they always have to succeed?"

"Well, I'm not that ambitious." The bald hero confessed, absent-mindedly scratching his cheek. "I don't measure the value of my actions by their success; I never have. I measure them by giving a damn enough to do them."

Sekingar let a small singular chuckle escape. For the first time with in his long career, it appeared he had finally found someone that he had utterly no idea of how to judge. The executive's talent for reading people and their potential didn't come from his fancy eye; it was a trait he was born with and that his experience enhanced even more. And listening to this hero argue his resolve to help a woman that – frankly – didn't entirely deserve to be helped, all the while showing so little resolve in his unreadable expression…the duality was nothing less than a bizarre thing to witness.

"Caped Baldy was it?" The appointed leader asked.

"Ugh…I'd really just prefer people to call me Saitama." He answered with some discomfort.

"Oh, I see." Sekingar's expression morphed before the hero's eyes into an icy leer. "So you don't accept the name that I personally selected for you."

"Uh?" A bead of sweat broke out on Saitama's head.

A miasma of unpleasant malaise seemed to creep out of the man as he went further into detail. "I pour my heart and soul into constructing each individual name that our heroes get. For your particular moniker, I spent three straight hours painstakingly crafting a title that would be fashionably brief while also fully capturing the integrity of your image in the minds of everyone that hears it." He emptily turned away from the bald hero, as if he could no longer bear to even look at him. "I see now that I should have instead been using that time to help my six-year old daughter practice for her national spelling bee." His face darkened. "She cried a great deal in front of me when she failed to spell her first word in front of thirty-six hundred people. I believe the word was _'Depression'…_ "

Saitama's eyes widened, realizing just how hard he had jammed his own foot in his mouth. After all this time, it seems there was still one foe he had yet to defeat: his own tongue. Going into full panic mode, he fought hard for an excuse to salvage their exchange. "Whaaat, psh nooo, that's not, pssh _nooooo._ It's not that it's a… _bad_ name, it's just maybe, well, it's a little, umm…on the nose?"

Sekingar's scowl deepened for a moment, and Saitama thought he might be thrown out of the business right then and there. Then the chairman's coldness and grief seemed to magically disappear all at once.

"Just kidding."

Saitama sweat-dropped at the man's sardonic humor. "Huh?"

"The idea for your name came from Sneck. I don't even have a daughter." He explained bluntly. "His other alternative was to make your hero name 'Disrespectful Bubble-blowing Baldy Bastard,' but the selection team decided that one would have been too long."

" _PFF!"_

Speechless and slack-jawed, Saitama turned his face to see Genos standing off to the side. The cyborg's eyes looked as serious as ever, but he had a hand strategically placed over his mouth to stifle his reaction.

Saitama collapsed into exasperation. "…I'm out of here."

As he turned to walk away, he heard Sekingar's voice loom from behind him. "I take it you know where Tornado lives, then?"

The hero froze in his tracks. _Crap._

"I must admit, I would be surprised if she shared that detail with you – she is a _very_ private person. In fact, she would not even disclose her whereabouts with the staff, so her location doesn't exist in the Hero Association's database on any computer of any building…in any branch division we own." He paused for effect, letting the morbid facts sink into Saitama's skull. "…Anyway, good luck to you."

By the time the heroes had turned back around to face him, Sekingar was already walking away.

"Shit…" Saitama's eyes stretched wide open, frozen in blood-shot panic. His teeth were crushed together in an airtight grit. "Shit shit shit shit _shiiiiiit_."

"Master, you know that I do not enjoy offering you discouragement," Genos remarked in the middle of his mentor's breakdown, "but perhaps it really is best to cut her loose after all. She would only hold you back, and I detect no fluctuations in her behavioral patterns that indicate she is willing to improve her attitude within a convenient timeframe."

The bald hobbyist was rubbing his head madly as he wracked his brain for ideas. "There has to be some way…some person that knows some _thing_ about where that kid lives…!" At this point, Saitama was more talking to himself than his mechanical companion.

"Don't worry." The sultry, milky voice of a complete stranger called to them from out of nowhere. "There is."

The two turned to see a tall woman standing before them in a black dress similar to Tatsumaki's, except this one was draped in a coat of arctic fur. She sported a French-style bob, the color of which was one shade shy of being completely black. The collar of her fair-skinned neck was adorned with extravagant finery, but the most extravagant thing about this lady was her smile.

"Who's this?" Saitama whispered carefully to Genos, who returned with a clueless shrug.

The woman's bold grin faltered into a pout, somewhat put off by the fact that they didn't recognize her. But in the interest of maintaining solid first impressions, she let it slide and introduced herself with a renewed look of confidence.

"My official name is _Jigoku no Fubuki_ – the Blizzard of Hell. But you can do the courtesy of addressing me as _Miss_ Fubuki."

' _Oh great,'_ Saitama's mind seeped out, _'Another 'Miss This-or-That'…'_

She held her arm out, presenting the back of her hand to the two male heroes, who exchanged uncertain glances with each other. Her eyes shimmered, Saitama noticed, with the same mischievous green as the little girl that had earlier dashed out. And somehow, this new woman seemed to _notice_ that he noticed. And that wasn't entirely settling.

Fubuki's grin stretched wide with vanity.

"And the pleasure of making my acquaintance is all yours."

* * *

She was back where the flake that snowballed into this downright terrible day first fell: her quiet four-room apartment.

If there was anything abundantly girly about Tatsumaki, not a lot of its quality had shown through the appearance of her home – even in her bedroom. There were no fancy flower pots or frilly pink drapes. No novel posters of male pop celebrity icons – especially not the same copy of Sweet Mask that she was almost certain every one-in-two girls had pressed on their walls or ceilings. _God_ no.

Tatsumaki may have been in the so-called "prime of her life," but despite her pride which was often interpreted as arrogance, her living situation reflected a different aspect of hers that no one else would ever see…

Modesty.

The walls in her apartment were colorless in general. A lot of whites and greys – as if to say that "a lot" offered tons of variety for colors that weren't even technically colors. The walls in her room were mainly occupied by mirrors and the occasional clock. Her place wasn't messy at all, but it certainly helped that she didn't have a lot of stuff to make a mess _with._ The only part that had filled up was her hanging closet, where she had a diversified selection of clothes, including a black dress, a black dress, another black dress, a few more black dresses, her night pajamas, and oh! A black dress.

Holy _shit,_ she was modest.

The first thing she did when she got back an hour ago was kick off her shoes and plunge face-first into the fluffy green pillow of her queen-sized bed. She was abundantly tired, but she was also too upset to remedy that and catch up with her lost sleep. Since last night, she had been confronted and humiliated – both publicly _and_ privately – soaked in sewage, humiliated some more…and flicked.

She didn't need the help of her fatigue to be in a bad mood, either. Even while she had her head buried in the pillowcase, the vivid flash of faces swept through the recesses of her mind. She saw Genos aiming his pulse rays at her while looking just as mean as she did. She saw Sekingar glaring coldly down at her with his arms crossed like an indignant father.

And of course, there was the centerpiece of her displeasure:

 _Him._

She grimaced from under the pillow as she felt a pang of frustration hit her heart. She tried to wipe his stupid face from her mind, but it always bounced back the same way he did when she threw half his neighborhood at him. And each time he came back, his face got closer.

And closer.

And closer.

Until it was right in front of her. Then she again saw how he looked back at the conference area, with his hardened expression, his symmetrically chiseled jawline, and those serious, dangerous eyes.

Who was he?

Who the hell was he?

And who the hell did he _think_ he was?

Giving a small growl, she shook the vision from her head and flipped over on her back, staring up at the object resting over her.

Probably the only picture she had hung in the building was above her bed where she now looked. It was a requisite group shot of her with the other S-Class champs of the Hero Association. Even so, the photo was rather dated; it may have been taken a year or two back, and a few newbies like Drive Knight and Demon Cyborg had not yet entered the scene. Against her wishes, the administration didn't want her floating in the picture, and since the heroes were arranged in rows from tallest in back to shortest in front, guess who had the centerstage spotlight. There she stood by herself arms crossed, looking none too happy – especially when she saw the photo afterwards and noticed Silver Fang hunched behind her, holding two fingers up at the back of her head to give her bunny ears. The old creep.

Still, of every S-Class hero that she was forced to interact with, Bang was possibly the one she hated the least. She didn't care much for the pissing contests he had with Atomic Samurai, but looking closer, it was more of Samurai making up one-sided competitions, and Silver Fang just seemed to tolerate it more than anything else.

Being the only female S-Class wasn't easy, but she had some respect for the old martial artist, because out of all the guys, he seemed to be the mildest in character. Supposedly King was mild too, but it was really his face she had a problem with. Anyone who looked like even more of an asshole than she did was probably…well, an asshole.

Between Tanktop's over-competitiveness with literally anyone else, Darkshine's refusal to properly clothe himself, Prisoner being a convicted man-molesting felon, and Pig God being more 'pig' than 'god' in general, she didn't exactly have the century's biggest grab-bag of friends. Being the highest rank just didn't help things like that.

And after today, she was sure nothing will.

She stormed out. She didn't take the assignment. And she didn't just forget to either. Fuck the 'Rule of Two.' Fuck the association. Fuck Sekingar.

She knew their ideas were stupid, but never like this. If she was fully aware of the depths of their depravity by forcing her to work with other heroes that could only be considered liabilities, then she would have left the association that much sooner. She tried the hero life, and now it seemed that the hero life was done with her. Good riddance.

She flopped over on her side to mildly glare at the bookshelf leaning against the far wall. It had maybe twenty books on it at most, and each of them had probably been read five times, minimum. She could try cracking one open to get her mind away from other things, but there was nothing that any of those pages could say to her that they hadn't told her before. And even though books could talk to her, it's not like she could talk back. She may have been anti-social, but you couldn't quite substitute another person. She tried.

Her mind quickly carried her to darker places. A future without the association – a future without being a professional hero.

What would she do? What _could_ she do?

Flipping burgers at a fast-food restaurant? Even with her powers, the monotony of that lifestyle would kill her.

Working in an office cubicle getting yelled at by a manager every day? She would kill _him._

Volunteer at a soup kitchen? Even if she were that generous with her time, she would still starve to death while everyone around her prospered with full bellies. Bills needed to be paid.

Suddenly, she felt the chill strike her. She had nothing. No aspirations. No ambitions. No future.

Tatsumaki was independent, but being a crime-fighter was all she had ever known. It was all that she was good for. On a business resume, she barely even existed.

"Tch…it's all _his_ fault." She muttered bitterly under breath. "If he hadn't gotten in the way…"

 **-Knock- -Knock- -Knock-**

Her eyes shot alive, and every curly strand of her hair perked up when she heard a pounding sound coming from the main room. Her door. Someone was there.

She blasted upright from her cushioned mattress, but from the air, she wouldn't budge. Who could it be? Who had found her? How?

She wracked her brain for people that knew her location, and the only one that she could think of was…

"Sister…?" She blinked pensively. What would _she_ be doing here? Even if she wasn't so busy running that glorified country club of hers, she didn't even like her…

…Did she?

Tatsumaki put her finger to her chin, debating her next move. She wasn't a company entertainer, especially when she was in low spirits like this. Even if it was her sister, what would she say to her?

On the other hand, a visit from her could be exactly what Tatsumaki needed. They never talked much anyway, and maybe she would be willing to sit down and discuss a plan with her.

Maybe they were closer than the Tornado thought.

A small cheerful smile threatened to creep up on her face for the first time all day, and she zoomed out of her bedroom across the living room to the front door.

She gave a deep breath, and with a flick of her wrist, she telekinetically turned the knob and pulled the door ajar.

"Fubuki," she tried hiding the excitement in her voice, "this is quite a first, you've never visited me bef—"

Instead of who she thought it was, an all too familiar bald figure stood just on the other side of the entrance, giving a single wave motion of his hand. "Yo."

 **=SLAM=**

The sheer force of her shutting him out shook the whole house and caused cracks to appear around the attached wall. She threw her back against door, white as a sheet, eyes bugging out in horror.

' _Oh…my god.'_ She cuffed both hands over her mouth to quiet her rapid breathing. _'Oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god HOW.'_

She slid down the surface into a paralyzed sitting position, trying to figure out how he – of _all_ people – knew her address.

Did he follow her? No. She was too fast, and even if he did, she would have sensed him.

Did the association tell him? They couldn't have! She made it perfectly transparent that if they asked her for personal information like that again she would rip out every building they owned by their foundations and give the association a permanent relocation – in _space._ After she already did it to Sitch's car, they knew she wasn't joking.

Did the baldy tell anyone _else_ where she was? Who else knew? Who could have told him? The only person in the world that should know where to find her was—

"No…" Her eyes popped out wider than they should have been anatomically allowed to. "She didn't… That frosty bi—!"

"Uhh, hi?" A muffled sound carried over from the other side of the door. "Yeah, me again. I'm still out here, you know."

She puffed her cheeks up indignantly. Evidently the universe wasn't through plucking her wings off just yet. But at this point, what more did it really have to take from her?

With one final push, Tatsumaki redoubled her resolve to open the door, even with every physical and mental fiber of her being screaming at her not to.

Thanks to the new damage to the hinges, the door now groaned pitifully as she slowly peeled it asunder.

"What the hell are _you_ doing here? How did you find this place?" She glared daggers at him, hoping that her powers actually made at least one cut with them.

"Look, I know you're still kinda raw about what happened, but we need to talk." Saitama paused to rub the back of his neck. "I need to talk."

"The only 'talking' you'll be doing is with the fish at the bottom of the Mariana Trench if you don't get the fuck off my doorstep."

"But I just got here."

"That's not my problem!"

"Will you just hear me out for like half a minute here?"

"Well okay."

"Really?!"

"NO. LEAVE."

Saitama sighed in defeat. He knew she would be breathing fire at him, but not this much heat so quickly.

"All right, then…" His posture sagged dismally. "Sorry for interrupting your…whatever you were doing in there."

She looked away from him, holding up a dismissive hand. "Just…go."

"I'll go…" Saitama nodded his head solemnly. He turned away from her door, and it appeared that the esper was about to finally have her first victory today. But then he looked back at her from over the shoulder, and she knew it wasn't over. "Hey, are there any good lake or beach areas around here?"

She raised her eyebrows at him. "Why ask such a stupid question?"

"I dunno." He shrugged, and she heard him rustling with something in front of him that was out of her view. "I guess I was just hoping to find a decent spot to watch the sun go down while I eat these imported Premium-Choice lime-flavored Turkish delights by myself…"

Not one second after the long string of words left his mouth, Tatsumaki's began to water, and a noisy gurgle began to stir from her direction.

As quick as she could, she threw a hand over her belly to silence the sound. _'Shh!'_ She mentally commanded it. _'No! Bad tummy. Don't sell out your mistress.'_ She tried to maintain a cool demeanor and ignore the assortment of candy he was holding, but she knew that he could already see the bullets of sweat appearing on her face.

Saitama gave her a small smirk. "What was that?"

"What was what." She immediately countered.

Another gurgle escaped her stomach, even louder than the first one. She shut her eyes in submission and glared meekly down at the offender. _'…Traitor.'_ She cursed the organ. This was what she got for skipping breakfast.

Huffing sharply, she redirected all her scorn to her new visitor.

"Five minutes." She spoke plainly. "That's all you get. Then you're gone. Capiche?"

Saitama's face broke into a wide smile. "Yeah!" He replied enthusiastically. "Cat peach!"

Tatsumaki rolled her eyes at his misappropriation. "Then get in."

She turned to float back inside, hearing him gently close the battered door behind him as she retreated into the living room.

A new angry thought was buzzing around her head.

Fubuki… She was going to rip that fancy fur coat of hers to shreds.

She suspected her involvement before, but now there could be no coincidence that this caped nobody just happens to show up at her door carrying her one true weakness in a container that took a small fortune just to have shipped from its own country. It had to have been her.

If she wasn't sure that her little sister hated her before, she was positive about it now.

She peered out from the corner of her eye as she watched her guest slip off his boots and shuffle over the carpet behind her.

Just because his bait worked didn't mean she had to _like_ that it did. She never let another human see the inside of her living space, least of all a _guy._ But the saving grace was that since she didn't spend on much, there wasn't much she needed to hide. Besides, he'd be out in a moment. Of that she'd make sure.

They approached the middle of the room, and she turned to face him head-on. Neither of them bothered sitting down.

"So spill. What's so damn important you'd go through the trouble to find me."

Before answering, he set the bag of sweets on a small side table nearby; an offering to placate a little green goddess.

"First, I want to say that I didn't come here to fight." He made his intentions clear. "I never wanted this fight to begin with."

She crossed her arms. "It's what you brought."

"Actually," he corrected her, "you did."

Her jaw dropped. "M-Me? I'm going to lose my _job_ thanks to _you!_ "

"Tatumaki, when you—"

"Tatsumaki!" She corrected vehemently.

"… _Tatsu_ maki. When you and that thing you were chasing ripped the whole side of my building off, I still tried to offer you food. Not be your opponent. All you needed to do was accept a little bit of criticism."

"You called me a child!" She retorted. "You butted in! It was the Demon Cyborg I was chewing out, but you, a B-Class, had to mettle in matters that had little concern with you."

"You busted up _my_ place," he clarified, keeping a calm, even tone, "yelled at _my_ roommate, tossed _me_ out into the street, and tried to bully me into quitting my job as a hero." She opened her mouth to interject, but ultimately froze, looking away in a pout. Saitama continued. "This whole thing could have gone a different direction, but you chose this one. Case closed."

"Hmph!" She turned her back to him, giving off her coldest shoulder. She was so used to having her powers scare away any potential arguments from other people, actually being pushed back was something she wasn't quite accustomed to. After a pause, without even turning back to face him, she asked "So you came here to gloat, huh? I was wrong, you were right – that it?"

He shook his head. "I'm only telling you what you somehow seem to be the last person to figure out. But like I said, I'm not here to fight. I'm here to offer you a truce."

"Well you're doing a hell of a job." She returned harshly.

He blinked at her and scratched his cheek for a minute, but continued once more. "This doesn't have to be the end, you know. You had a choice then, and you have one now. In three days, this Rule of Two thing is going down, and most of us have already hopped on the bandwagon. You don't have to be the one that stays behind."

"Hmph…" She remained facing away from him, glaring at an invisible object in the corner. After a moment of silence, she responded. "Ever since I joined up, I've been on my own. And I was fine with that. But the reason is because I've _always_ been the one that stays behind. I just had to get used to it. Ever since I was small, when Bla—" A shock jolted her face, and she caught up with what she was saying. "On second thought, no…never mind. Hey, are you leaving or what?"

"Almost…" He reassured her. "But I have to ask you… The way you're living right now… Does it make you happy?"

He was met with silence.

"Because if it doesn't, and you continue focusing on being alone…then you'll probably be that way for the rest of your life. I didn't have to come, but I'm here now. You can either suck up a month or two with me, or you can go your own way while I go mine. It doesn't really matter to me, but I wasn't sure if it might to you."

Tatsumaki flashed back to what had been plaguing her mind prior to his unexpected intrusion. _'What would I do? What could I do? Only thing I'm good for…'_

Her lip quivered softly while she mulled it over, but when she heard a distinct crunching sound, she spun around to see him haphazardly eating another candy.

"H-Hey! Paws off!" She yelled.

He held his hands up in casual surrender and set the bag back down.

"Tch…why did you come here to tell me all this anyway?" She asked sternly, readjusting her arms into their folded position. "Look, I'm not that full of myself; I'll admit _some_ of the things I did…" She started. "That's why you're making absolutely no sense by being here. You should be staying as far away from me as you can! That's what anyone else would be doing…"

"Sorry to inform you," he replied curtly, "you're not talking to anyone else. Just me." He turned away from her and headed to the door. "You can keep the stuff I brought over. Even if I never see you again, I can at least be satisfied with this last impression, if not much else…"

Tatsumaki remained silent as she watched him put his boots back on and open the door, letting a stream of light shine in. Then he turned to glance at her from over his shoulder.

"This will be my last intrusion." He told her. "But if I _do_ see you again…it'll be because you know where _I_ live too."

She grunted in surprise, and to her own astonishment, she felt a soft flutter run through her chest. It wasn't like the sharp pangs of frustration she felt when she was sulking on her bed. This felt…less familiar.

"Why did you come here?" At the moment, this was the only thing she could think to ask. With a weaker voice, she added "Why go this far?"

He glanced back at her one last time before turning to step all the way out. "The candies will tell you why."

She heard a loud whooshing sound, like a massive gust of wind had swept by. She flew up to the doorway to look at where he left.

He was already gone.

"That was cryptic…" She shook off her daze, regaining her regular composure. "Hmph…oddball." She muttered, feeling the smallest amount of heat tinging her cheek.

She turned back around to inspect the sweets he left behind, and when she reached inside for one, her fingers brushed against something thin and smooth.

Realizing it was paper, she pulled it out of the bag, assuming that the idiot had just left the receipt inside. But when she examined it, she didn't see any numbers. Instead, it was neatly folded – apparently a note of some kind.

She opened it and the first thing she noticed was that it was a printed copy of the assignment that she had opted not to collect before she bolted out the door. The title at the top of the neatly-formatted sheet said, _'Partner Evaluation: Week 1._ ' She turned the sheet over to find a very crudely-drawn picture of a round-headed guy wearing a caped costume next to a smaller crudely-drawn picture of a girl with cartoonish hair curling inward that she could only surmise to be hers. She cringed at the art. It looked like the rough draft for One badly designed web-comic.

She also noticed a small message beneath the work. Pulling the paper closer, she narrowed her emerald green eyes to read the lettering.

His handwriting was one tier above being chicken-scratch, so her initial start on it was rocky. But her eyes widened with discovery when she at last deciphered the words scrawled at the bottom of the page:

 _ **Heroes try.**_

 _ **-S**_


	4. The Hero Whose Backstory Is Too Tragic

**Disclaimer: I do not own One-Punch Man.**

 **Chapter 4: The Hero Whose Backstory Is Too Tragic  
**

In a quiet little café tucked inside of an urban corner, two men sat together on opposite sides of a small booth. Each had a respective beverage sitting on the table in front of them.

The more publicly recognized of the pair tapped his fingers nervously against the smooth surface where his hands rested. He shifted his back against the booth, shuddering at the clammy sensation of hot sweat that slid down his shoulders and pressed into the cold leathery cushion. He was nervous.

Mumen Rider dared himself to glance up from the steaming spot where his coffee cooled to where the other man was currently leering back at him; his glassy eyes raining supreme judgement upon his sorry soul.

In all honesty, the Cyclist of Justice never expected to even get this far in convincing Death Gatling to lend him an ear. From where they left the conference hall, he had been fervently chasing the A-Class soldier all up and down virtually every street in I-City. He had spent the entire evening continuously pleading for him to consider accepting the partnership, and all along the way, the gunman had shown no glimmer of interest – not so much as turning his head a single degree to look over his shoulder at the imploring bicyclist.

After a certain amount of distance had been covered, Mumen Rider had great reason to suspect that they were nearing Death Gatling's home, because the taller man suddenly stopped in his tracks and spun around on his heels, aiming the monstrous barrels of his weapon straight into the biking hero's helmeted head.

Apparently he valued his privacy a great deal.

Every one of Mumen Rider's muscles tensed up and stiffened as he peered down the long hole of the gun's mouth – a mouth he knew could bite down hard on him in as little time as it took for its master to pull the trigger. Sweat was spilling from every pore on his ghost-white face, and in a final bid to win both a chance to talk _and_ live, Mumen Rider's desperation guided him to the ground, where he had thrown himself into a kowtow before the physical manifestation of death.

The more seasoned hero tightened his glare with disgust at the prostration of his would-be partner. For the first time all day, he opened his mouth only to voice a simple command.

"Get lost."

The harrowing tone of his voice promised much blood and pain if the other hero didn't obey.

Mumen's forehead remained pressed into the pavement, and for fear of what would happen if he looked back up at him, he simply clasped his hands tightly together in front of his head, as if in hurried prayer.

"Please…!" He hissed his sincerity through tightly-clenched teeth. "Please just hear me out… A moment, a minute, a _splinter_ of your time…! And…and then if you really mean it, you'll never see me again! I swear!"

Death Gatling kept his murderous eyes fixed on the quivering creature that had now tightened into a tight ball. The hand-held cannon remained trained on him for a while longer, but after a careful moment of examining his pitiful prey, Gatling's glare slightly softened, and he finally lowered his gun.

"Puh… Not like getting rid of you is worth the bullet."

Mumen Rider's eyes shot open from behind his goggles at the ghostly chance that he may yet live to fight (and bike) another day. He cautiously unfurled from his submissive position until he was kneeling on all fours. The terrifying aura that had been bearing down on him so ferociously seemed to dampen a bit when Death Gatling turned his attention away again.

"Dammit," the older man muttered, "Now you've done it… Threatening you made me hungry. What an inconvenience…"

As the veteran started ambling away once more, Mumen Rider fought for the courage to choke out his words in spite of what just happened. With a heavy breath, he rushed to get his point across with one quick sentence.

"L-Let's get some dinner!"

The stoic soldier stopped moving, and the cyclist bit down hard on his lip, praying that the suggestion hadn't come out too awkward.

Death Gatling spared him a mystified glance from over the shoulder, furrowing an eyebrow in question. "Huh?"

"You know…for food." The C-Class hero tried to clarify as he got up to dust himself off.

"I know what dinner means, kid."

Mumen noticeably flinched. "Uhh, I mean, if you're willing…I would feel honored if you'd let me pay. It's the least I can do for making you hungry in the first place, so…" He let the intention hang, hoping that by some chance, the other hero would fill in the loose end of his sentence. No such miracle happened, however, as he merely continued to receive a piercing gaze from the human grim reaper. For that moment, it seemed like the leather-clad ranger was glimpsing into his very soul, purging it for any signs of sin with a Penance Stare. Mumen Rider felt the pressure double, and then redouble again; sensing as though the whole Shinigami Host was fixed on him, clamoring amongst themselves about what his grizzly fate should be for the mortal trespass of his invitation.

Another moment went by, with the sky growing noticeably darker as the sun prepared to bury itself beyond the horizon.

Finally, the withdrawn gunman opened his mouth to speak. "And I suppose you will also use this moment to try and convince me that we should work together…"

The chill in Death Gatling's voice made everything seem darker – _heavier_ even _._ Mumen winced at the blatant irritation underlying the tone, but replied regardless. "At this point, I sort of just want to express gratitude for you deciding to spare my life…and not kill me…and stuff. Ha..haha…" He rubbed the back of his head, trying to lighten the request with a few sheepish laughs. This did nothing to bring the senior hero any closer to a reality that involved him smiling back.

"Do you take me for a fool?" Gatling sneered harshly. "I recognize an opportunist when I see one."

Mumen Rider shuddered roughly, clenching his fist in an effort to preserve the last ounce of his tenacity. The struggle lasted only until he thought he saw the corner of Gatling's mouth twitch.

"Well don't act so shook up about it, boy. It's a compliment." Gatling looked down on him as if his intention should have been the most obvious thing in the world. "Can't you take a compliment?"

Orange rays of light split the clouds from behind him, and the encroaching darkness that Mumen Rider felt seemed to subside with the final burst of sunset.

Before the shorter guy could respond, Gatling had already turned to walk away again. "A meal in exchange for your life. I suppose the offer seems harmless enough…"

Mumen fought the urge to break out into a huge, relieved grin. While he was at least _relatively_ certain that Gatling wouldn't mow him down whether he made the offer or not, the wiser part of him quickly suggested that he not correct the gun-wielder about the terms of the exchange. At this point, all he needed to be was thankful that every point he invested in his Karma Savings Card had paid off with this new opportunity to address his potential partner properly.

Just as the cyclist started to follow him, the towering man abruptly stopped again and snapped his head back towards his junior to emit a dark, brooding glare.

" _But!"_ The sudden shock Mumen received from the lethal conjunction caused him to reflexively shoot his arms up in the air as if bracing to be held at gunpoint again. Death Gatling's eyes only deepened into a deadly, distrusting squint. "If you so much as even _think_ you can convince me that working with a weakling like you would be to the best to my benefit…" He let the ominous implication of the words hang in the air before closing the gap, "…then your mistake is even more tragic than my entire past. And believe me…that's not so funny."

The licenseless rider gave off a sharp gulp, as well as a quick nod of understanding.

Despite Death Gatling's persisting leer, he still answered, "Good." His eyes turned up for a brief moment before turning back down to stare at the cyclist again. "Now put your arms down – you look like an idiot doing that."

Grunting in surprise, Mumen had completely forgotten that he was still reaching for the sky. Embarrassed, he lowered his limbs to follow the gunman who, he presumed, was leading him to a dining establishment of some kind…

…And now here they were.

Mumen Rider hadn't then realized that he was condemning himself to such a purgatorial hell; ever since they sat down in the hole-in-the-wall restaurant, Death Gatling's suspicious countenance would not let up. His passive, looming judgment made each and every minute feel like an hour.

The cyclist found himself fighting and losing an inner battle; struggling to kickstart a conversation lest the air of silence suffocate him. While it was true that he didn't exactly rehearse an entire 'Come Hither' speech to win the death trooper over, he was firmly adamant (up until now) that everything would work itself out the way it always does. After all, Saitama didn't _have_ to show up and save him from a heart-nippled ocean monster – but he did. How and why should this situation have been any worse?

A sliver of hope broke through the rift as a young waitress came by with their menus, forcing Gatling to break his soul-piercing gaze on him. The girl preparing to serve them looked not a day past eighteen, and upon notice of the visibly armed creature of war, she was the absolute picture of distress. Her light brown eyes were wide and quivering as beads of sweat formed around her face. Her slender legs wobbled uncontrollably with her knees looking as though they could buckle at any moment.

"Uh-umm…sir…?" Her soft, tiny voice chirped. "Y-your w-weapon…"

"Neh?" The dark-haired man cocked his eyebrow. "I can barely hear ya, girly. You're gonna have to speak up."

"Eh, ehm…" The nervous employee did her best to collect herself and try again. "I-It's just that…your gun…it's making the other patrons and workers a little…n-nervous…?"

"Nervous?" Death Gatling turned back to Mumen Rider to give him a brief but distinguished ' _you believe this shit?'_ look before returning his attention to the waitress. "The hell's there to be nervous about? The safety's on and my finger's off the trigger, see?"

"Ah…! Pl-please, Mister Gatling-san, come on…" She pleaded using his name as she bowed her head low, indicating to Mumen that he got into this particular discussion with the staff on more than one occasion. The girl defensively raised the menus up to her face to hide her mouth. Doing her best to avoid eye-contact, she continued, "Y-you know that it's the management's preference for people to conceal their carry if they're going to bring weapons in, so…"

"Concealed carry?!" Death Gatling spat, letting out the closest thing to a laugh that Mumen Rider heard in the brief time he had known him. The veteran motioned to the weapon resting next to him on the booth. It was nearly large enough to occupy the entire space of another person. "Well what's your big idea? You want me to cram this down my pants?"

"Eep! N-no!" The girl's face took on scarlet as she violently shook it. "I-I only meant… We can hold it for you…if you'll permit us…" He gave her a paranoid eye, causing her to lower her head back down. "Please…! For everyone's peace of mind! I promise I'll take good care of it for you… I'll watch over it as if it were my own child!"

The gunman sized up her sincerity, and detecting no lack of it, he rolled his eyes and shrugged wearily. "Fine… Do what you gotta do. I'm not here to argue or anything… But you better not lose her, hear me?"

The worker's eyes let out a grateful twinkle, and the spectating cyclist hero faintly blushed at the charming smile she wore as she uncovered it to place the menus on the table. "Th-thank you sir! Now, if you'll let me…" She held out her hands, waiting patiently for him to hand over the object in question.

Death Gatling gave a gruff sigh, but reluctantly complied, reaching down towards a part of the gun out of view for both Mumen Rider and the waitress. Suddenly they heard something go _click_ as he unbuckled it. Their eyes widened in realized horror that once he pulled the weapon away from himself, it had become apparent that his left arm was nothing but a stump wrapped in a blood-crusted bandage. The other hero didn't know why it took him so long to notice. Perhaps it was because of the obscuring cloak covering the scarred soldier's flank. But evidently, the lead-slinging gizmo was more than just a firearm – it was his _**arm**_ arm too.

The girl dropped her jaw, all but traumatized by the moral dilemma of basically asking him to forfeit a piece of his own body for everyone's safety. "O-oh my gosh. I am _so_ sorry, I…I'm just…" She was at an utter loss for what to say to justify her awkward position. No matter how many times they did this ritual, this part just never seemed to get easier for her.

The dead-eyed ranger seemed unfazed by their matched surprise as he hoisted the prosthetic limb of mass destruction over the table to dump it in the slack-jawed server's waiting arms.

A smirk of amusement threatened to creep up on the A-Class hero's face as he watched her nearly topple over into their table, fighting against the newly-bestowed weight of his pet machine. She shut her eyes tightly to grit under the strain, no doubt wishing that she had the foresight to get one of the bigger male employees to help her. Her knees were bent inward directly facing each other, and if the chain gun had been a baby bird's feather heavier, Mumen Rider was convinced that the poor drudging creature would have not only fallen _on_ the floor – but _through_ it.

Too scared to even mention it, Mumen Rider tried to put the strange new discovery of his companion's mutilation out of his mind by busying himself. "Umm, Miss, can I help you with that…?" He offered her a concerned arm in support.

The gesture seemed to terrify her for some reason. "Oh no! No, no, no, it's fine, it's quite all right, I promise!" She bobbed her head towards him, smiling at his willingness to assist. She continued trembling uncontrollably while she spoke. "Thanks…hah…anyway! I'll be right back to…ngh!...take your orders..."

He returned her appreciative grin with a polite smile of his own, although he was still uncomfortable at leaving her to struggle with the gargantuan firearm. Everyone in the restaurant winced as it scraped painfully against the tile floor she dragged it across.

She quickly looked back over her shoulder to muster up a huge apologetic wince for Death Gatling, but his attention was already back on Mumen Rider, indicating that he either didn't notice the abrasive noise, or just didn't give half a shit.

"I like that girl. Pretty." Gatling told him with an emotionless expression as she continued her struggle in the area behind him. "A bit of a worrywart, but there's no staying mad at that face…"

"Yeah…" Mumen agreed sheepishly, unsure of how he could compliment a cute girl so casually like that while she was still within earshot.

The justice biker had taken the moment to sip his coffee while his companion leaned in and went on to say, "She reminds me of this one hooker I had when I served in the Battle Beyond the Border. Man oh man…that broad could split a walnut clear down the middle with those thighs of hers."

 _PFFFT~!_

The contents of Mumen Rider's drink went flying out of his mouth in shock. Fortunately he had the good conscience to turn his head so that he didn't give his senior a caffeinated shower.

"Ack! G-Gatling~!?" He sputtered, holding a hand against his throat to ease the obstruction. He was absolutely blindsided by the very _idea_ that a guy, who up to now looked as though the only intimacy he shared was with carnage and gore, had said such a diverting thing. "Why would you…! She might've heard that!"

"Oh, her?" The scarred man jerked a thumb up over his shoulder in her direction before replying. "Ahh, don't worry, she likes it – she's told me before."

Somehow – for some reason – Mumen Rider seriously doubted that.

Still, the Cyclist of Justice felt it was best to change the topic before this one went down paths he'd rather not explore.

"So, umm…quite the meeting today, huh?"

Mumen watched before his very eyes as the man sitting across from him withdrew back into the dark, brooding aspect that everyone recognized him by. With a damning scowl, he coldly replied, "What about it."

The cyclist hero rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "Well, I mean…I've never seen so many of us bunched into one place before! Like, my high school graduation ceremony didn't even have that many people…"

Gatling's eyes narrowed by a deadly millimeter, indicating that he wasn't falling for the red herring.

"Whatever you're scheming, give up. Now. If I told you once, I'll tell you forever that I have no interest in getting familiar with another hero. Especially a pup like you."

The cyclist winced, almost feeling the words stab in combination with how quick the shrewd warrior managed to pinpoint his motivation. "What? I wasn't…! I only meant to—"

He was quickly silenced by a hand risen up to his protests. "With the kind of things I fight on a regular basis, you're liable to get yourself killed, and me right along with you. I've been around long enough to see what happens when a veteran trusts his back to a greenhorn. The only thing for me to do is to defect from the association and go back to being a vigilante where I follow my own principles. Alone is where I always did best anyway. And the best thing for _you_ to do is go home."

"Gatling, please just consider! If things don't work out, you know it'll never be too late for you to walk away. But once you do, there's no guarantee that they'll have you back. I just believe that both of us would feel much better knowing that you were at least open enough to try!"

"Just save it. And don't act so surprised when I'm able to see straight through your act. I can read people's hearts." He slowly turned away, staring into a corner of the room with a corrosive despair eclipsing his visage. "It's a gift… No…I suppose it's a curse. Most people appreciate gifts."

Mumen Rider gave him a concerned frown, doing his best to connect with him through sympathy. "What happened to you?"

The gunman closed his eyes tightly. "…It doesn't matter now. What's done is done, and I can't undo it. A man's past should remain his own, and the likes of you shouldn't go digging around for it."

His listener clasped his hands over the table, giving him a small nod of understanding. "I see. Well…don't worry about it, then. Just as you say, it's none of my business, and I would never want you to share something you're uncomfortable wi—"

A closed fist slammed down on the table, cutting him off and making his heart jump as high as the coffee mug in front of him did.

"Dammit kid, you just don't know when to give up, do you! Is the mystery of my past so damn important to you that it's all you can press me about? Don't you have anything better to do with your youth than to spend it nosing into other people's backgrounds?!"

Mumen Rider's jaw dropped in bewilderment. "B-But I was just saying that I didn't—"

"Well fine then." The lone gunman's compliant words caught him completely off guard. The cyclist gave him a look wondering if he understood, so Death Gatling continued. "If it'll make you stop wondering about it, I'll just tell you. I'd just hate to see someone so full of hope wrap himself up in trying to understand someone not meant to be understood. To fix something not meant to be fixed. So if closure is really that important to you, then here it is…"

Mumen blinked a few times at him, but gave a reluctant, unsure nod motioning him to proceed.

Death Gatling brought his only surviving hand up to his chin to scratch as he peered passively down at the drink in front of him, watching the ripples dance to the edges of the glass.

"I was taken from my family during infancy to join the brigade. I don't remember my mother's face. I'm not originally from I-City you see – or any city for that matter. I was from the outskirts of the country. Do you know what lies beyond Cities A-through-Z, boy?"

Mumen took a moment to reflect on the gigantic supercontinent that roughly 90% of the planet's humans sat on. It's true that he was aware there were places beyond the Cities' jurisdiction, but given that he could barely keep up watch over his own tiny slice of it, he never gave much thought as to what lied beyond the borders. "I've never personally seen it myself…but at the academy, they taught us that the respective regions stretching beyond our civilization are collectively referred to as the Dead Zones."

His senior closed his eyes and nodded the affirmative. "Correct. And each Dead Zone is a wasteland of a different element – a different kind of hell. To the north of our map, that's the Dark Dapple; the frozen tundra where they say the sun never shines. To the south, that's the Moldering Mire. East is the Stormy Sea, and to the west is—"

"The desert." Mumen finished for him with a mellow tone.

"…the Wind-Shorn Shifts… Yes."

"Wow…" Mumen Rider looked to him with newfound adulation. "I've never met anyone who came from beyond the Alphabet. Which Dead Zone are you from?"

The man paused for a moment to look out the window. The last of purple had left the evening sky, and the street lamps came on to guide pedestrians through the night.

"…The Mire."

"Well, what was it like?" Mumen Rider inquired, leaning forward with barely contained curiosity.

Gatling furrowed his eyebrows together on where to begin. "Like…floating in a thousand-mile-wide bowl of boiling toxic soup. For starters, you're never dry. The winters are six months of monsoon, cold as a well-digger's ass, and the summers are six months of no damn rain, but it gets so hot and humid that you can practically feel the flies on you sweat while they lay eggs in your ears."

A small gleam of amusement broke from his eye as the cyclist shuddered at the thought of anything laying eggs _anywhere_ on his body.

"We lived in these rusty old shacks which were built a good twelve-or-so meters above the marshes. It kept us safe from the crocs…but not the mosquitos."

His listener gave an unpleasant look. "Mosquitos?"

"Aye. But these ain't like your average pint-sized pussies you got around here. These're _southern_ mosquitos, each roughly the size of your fuckin' cat, carrying just about every disease known to Man and God. But I digress…"

Mumen Rider was glad he did. It was one thing to fight a monster resembling any supersized pest. An entire _species_ of a bug larger than his fist? No thank you.

"When I was taken away from my family…they taught us how to fire a gun before we could even walk. At age six, our top brass sent us kids to war against invaders from the deeper south, and at age six-and-a-half, I made my first kill. Back then I was no taller than your waist, so I don't even recall how I got high enough to reach the man's throat with my machete. I just…watched it happen. Like a passenger in my own body."

The C-Class hero tightened his grip around the handle of his coffee mug. "Bloody hell…" He squeezed under his breath.

"I'll tell you what was bloody…" Gatling replied. "The dark crimson color of the paint pouring outta' the man's jugular. At least…I _told_ myself it was paint. Helped to cope."

His listener felt the cold numbness of color flushing away from his face. "I think I'm gonna be sick…"

As if apropos to his suffering, Death Gatling picked this instance to open up his menu and glance at what was inside. "Oh if you're gonna get sick over something that small, I should just tell ya how many legs we had to cut off during the campaign. You ever hear the sound of serrated steel grinding against flesh and bone? Hard to eat meat after that. Trench foot is a bitch. The skin was so slimy and rotten that even the maggots seemed to have trouble keeping it down."

He watched the cyclist's pale face take on a sickly shade of green. "Please…no more."

Gatling shrugged callously and continued.

"Anyway, I spent over a decade slogging around in knee-deep mud with the boys, and we fought long and hard for survival every day. And with every kill I made and each piece of innocence I lost, I missed my shithole of a village and the parents whose faces I don't remember. I missed having to worry about the maneaters dragging me into the water at one careless misstep, and the giant mosquitos sucking my face off while I slept. I missed it so much that I survived. I'm a survivor. And I survived because I left. I left my battalion. I left my men. I'm a deserter. The lowest of scum. Why should I get to live when the rest of my men don't? I don't deserve to live, but I'm living…! I should have died along with them! Because then I could say in the very least; a dead piece of trash is better than a living piece of trash!"

It was at this dramatic moment that he finally chose to acknowledge the young waitress, who had been standing at their table for about a minute now. She was in complete shock, trembling from head to toe.

Holding a pen and notepad in her petite and incredibly unsteady hands, she squeaked out "H-have…have you guys had enough time t-to…decide…?"

In a singular lightning-fast motion that frightened the ever-loving shit out of the poor girl, Death Gatling swung himself around to face her dead-on, his face warped into a hysteric frenzy over what he just riled himself up about.

"I'll have a deep dark dish of tragedy, orphaned and exiled from a loving family and left to fester for five fortnights in a barren field of bitter harvest! Make it bleed, but not so much that it's too weak to carry out its endless mission to make others bleed, and let it simmer in the beating sun it cries up to a sick god through, but not long enough for the melanoma to give it the sweet release of death it prays for!"

At this point, the quivering figure of the employee had all but gone limp, hiding as much of her face as humanly possible from behind the tiny paper. "S…so the usual then…?" After receiving a fervent, almost angry nod, she noticeable calmed a bit when she turned towards her other customer. "And you sir?"

The younger man struggled with the only intelligible words that he could find in lieu of the apparent meltdown he just witnessed.

"Umm…I'll have what he's having…?"

The girl gave him a concerned look before nodding and going over the orders. "So that's two extra-large steak sandwiches soaked in every available sauce, medium well on the edges but red in the center, stacked between two sourdough bread buns toasted separately for exactly five minutes each. …And a side of fries."

Death Gatling nodded in his silent, stoic approval, while Mumen Rider fought himself about whether or not he should change his decision now that she thoroughly dissected what it was. After listening to the veteran he was treating a meal to go into visceral detail over gore and amputated limbs, the junior hero certainly wouldn't be ashamed to go vegan for the rest of the night.

Ultimately however, he decided to let it drop, and after the waitress departed again, he turned to address his companion in a serious tone.

"Hey now, you can't put yourself down like that, man. You're an A-Class hero of the Association! Think of all the good that represents!" The emotion in his voice was telling of how the brief backstory had moved him. "I believe that redemption is fair game for everyone. I think that the best of us is capable of the worst actions, and that the worst is capable of the best. So you can't let your past actions define your entire life – because you're not done living it yet!"

The taller man's face darkened in revelation. "Hell…I knew it… I just knew it." He grimaced morbidly.

Mumen blinked with confusion. "Knew what?"

"I've already told you far too much. This is exactly why you and I could never team up. In you, I see too much of how I thought back then. When I was a child…when I was ignorant to how stark the laws of this world truly are. You don't get to make things right. The world we live in wasn't made for the redemption you're preaching about. Even if you were as strong as one of those S-Class heavy hitters, it wouldn't matter how many monsters you stop. Two more of them are already lined up to take each place tomorrow morning. And then three more after that… And then four more after that. Until one day you wake up old and tired, and barely strong enough to peddle around on that bike of yours. But do you think evil will be nice and slow down for you? Do you think it will age with you? Do you think it will care that _you_ do?"

Mumen Rider swallowed hard, but remained otherwise silent. It was clear by the shaking of his shoulders that he was processing every heavy detail Death Gatling was telling him.

The grim hero decided to drive the point home. "See, all that us heroes really have to look forward to is that impending day when either a stronger monster shows up to kill us…or our own mortality does. And then what? You think your adoring fans will remember you? Sure they might _miss_ you – miss the fact that you're not there to protect them anymore, but beyond that, they'll look for someone else to worship up until the day it's that person's turn to take the plunge too. That's the curse we heroes bear. That's our punishment for being strong. The unbroken cycle. The inescapable prophecy of our existence. And today in your prime, the only comfort you'll cling to is assuring to yourself 'I've made a difference,' when no one in a hundred years will even remember it. The world will go on without us, boy."

The Cyclist of Justice bit down on his lip, clenching his fists on the table so hard that the other man could hear the strain of his gloves. "Then…maybe I'm wrong."

The soldier gave him a knowing look. "Have I finally gotten through to you?"

There was a pregnant pause after the question, as if the atmosphere around them had stopped to let reality sink in for the younger hero.

"But…but if I'm wrong…" The biker suddenly snapped his head to look him square in the eye from behind his spectacles. "Then I want to be wrong for the rest of my life!" In the face Death Gatling was staring into, he saw no surrender. It was stolid and stalwart, and absolutely flooded with determination. Mumen continued, raising his voice into almost a shout, "My goal as a hero has never been to immortalize myself in other peoples' memories. Everyone dies, so what's the point in that? My reason for doing what I do is to make a difference in someone's life now! Right now! I don't dwell on the past, and I don't dread the future. I start from present and go from there. One punch at a time."

He watched the grizzled veteran give him a disappointed frown, but didn't let it slow his momentum.

"I didn't become a hero expecting the world to be singing my praises forever. I suck at being a hero! And for C-Classes like me, it can be one of the most thankless jobs in the world. But even so…" He clenched his teeth and uttered his thoughts in a clear voice. "I will fight like hell – each and every single day of my life – until I convince people like you that this world can change! And then after I do that, I'll keep fighting some more!"

A clatter of dishes rang throughout the entire restaurant, causing Mumen to realize that at some point in the argument, he had gotten to his feet, and his voice was easily loud enough for everyone to hear.

He felt incredibly exposed, not knowing whether the other guests were preparing to applaud or throw food at him. After a disconcerting few seconds, however, they each reluctantly returned to their meals, leaving him to slide back into his seat.

"Well _oh-my-goodness,_ kid." Gatling almost cooed with mockery. "Did you hear all the panties drop?"

Mumen gave him a flustered look, but did his best not to let the small comment get to him. "I didn't figure that saying this much would convince you to see things the way I do…" He started. "I'm not in A Class. I'm not even in B Class. I may not be as strong as you – or as experienced as you…but despite everything that happened to you and more…I will never waver in my dedication to help lost people find their way again. In this aspect, my resolve is every bit as strong as it needs to be." He leaned in to boldly emphasize his point. "It might even be as strong as yours."

Death Gatling deepened his glare. "I don't need to have this argument with you, pup. Life will be your educator."

"Fine then." He responded, giving him a cocky smirk. "If that's how it's really gonna be, why don't you stick around long enough prove me wrong. We'll see who life educates first." He leaned in a bit more to taunt with a raised eyebrow. "Or are you afraid that _you're_ the one who'll be proven wrong instead?"

"Tch!" His senior sneered. "That childish antic won't work on me. I can't be goaded into joining anyone or anything." He leaned back in his seat, already missing the comfortable heft of his massive firearm. "…But you know…" His glare softened up a bit. "You really do remind me of myself…at that younger time in my life. And I'll admit I had forgotten how…full of purpose…it felt to be that way."

The cyclist gave him a hopeful look, silently crossing his fingers for the next question. "So…? How about it…partner?"

He received a pair of rolled eyes and a pained groan in response. "What, we gonna be friends now? Get the hell outta' here with this mushy chick-flick bullshit." Gatling picked up the cup of water in front of him and downed it all in one gulp, slamming the glass back down like he had just taken a shot. "Bwaaahh!" He exhaled painfully as if he guzzled liquid fire. "That's some good H2O…"

"Careful now," Mumen remarked facetiously, "too many more glasses of that water, and I'll have to cut you off."

"Cut me off?" The older man seemed appalled at the suggestion. "I've killed people for lesser offenses than that! You want a new collection of holes in your ass?! I'm about to…" He reached down in an absent-minded attempt to pull up his weapon, evidently forgetting about its confiscation. "Ahh shit, my gun. Where the hell did they…" He scowled as he looked around the room for it, and Mumen Rider simply let off a chuckle, realizing how much less intimidating his senior was without it.

That led to another question popping into Mumen's head. Hoping that he could use it to further diffuse the tension in wake of their existential debate, he asked. "By the way, I noticed that you referred to your gun as a _'her'_ before the waitress took it away." He raised an eyebrow in curiosity. "Is there a story there too?"

Gatling's face instantly snapped back into its cold, emotionless default, and the room fell back into the same tense mood as they started with. Mumen felt helpless as all the progress he made seemed to slip away in a single instant. Back to Square One…

"This is where I draw the line." The soldier spoke, his voice low and bitter. "You may have gotten me to choke up a _hint_ of my past…but you're way out of your depth here. For as long as I stay above the ground…" His expression grew dangerously sharp. "I will _never_ defile the memory of the only person I ever loved by talking about…her."

Mumen tilted his head, trying to connect the pieces in his brain. "Her?"

Another fist came pounding into their table, this time with enough force to send Mumen Rider's mug crashing when it came down from its jump.

"Fucking hell kid, the questions just never end with you, huh?! Want me to tell you where her grave is so you can dig that up too?!"

Mumen Rider's hands shot up in surrender. "That's not what I meant! That question was only rhetorical, I swear! Please, you don't have to tell me a thing about her! I'm sorry I asked!"

"Ahh fine, what'll she care, she's dead…"

"E…Eh?" Mumen sat in complete disbelief. For the second time this evening, Gatling's attitude seemed to change faster than Saitama could run for a closing special half-off sale. Was this guy for real? It wasn't an expected complaint, but he seemed to be opening up to him just a little _too_ quickly now. "No, really" He pleaded, doubtful that he would enjoy this story any more than the last one. "Seriously, that's okay, I don't even wanna know—"

"Her name was Feb." The gunman began, his voice once again low and brooding. "She was the only woman in my platoon. The only person in the world who looked at me as a person, not just a weapon or another grunt. And to top that off, she had this ass that wouldn't quit." Mumen Rider scrunched up his nose at this detail from out of nowhere, but quickly dropped the face, silently hoping that the crazed gunner hadn't caught it. "Anyway, I promised her that when the war ended, we would go some place to live normal, quiet lives together, leaving the bloody footprints of our dark past behind us. I promised…" For the first time, the man paused to collect himself. "I promised I would get her through all of this alive… Well one cold December, our unit went under a hail of bullets. A blizzard of lead. Calamity was our Christmas; and gunfire was our gift. It's how I lost Lefty here too, see..."

He gave the phantom limb a few shakes for his one-man audience, who looked away from it, but nodded uneasily.

He continued his account. "Then Feb – bravest damn woman I ever knew – she shielded me from the flying shrapnel. From right behind, I was forced to watch the metal shards break into her body and peel her like an onion. I carried her on my shoulder for two full days despite my own injuries – with her hanging by a thread. Eventually she couldn't hold out, and I was forced to put her down. I remember the smell of iron overthrowing my senses – both from the blood, and from the metal pieces still lodged in her organs. She died in my arms… She died smiling at what she had accomplished in saving my life, which somehow made it seem even more sad and tragic to me…"

He sounded like he wanted to say more, but his words trailed off, and he was left muted by some deeper thought.

Mumen Rider sat silent for a while, not knowing what to say. 'I'm sorry for your loss'? 'Thank you for telling me'? Neither of those things really seemed to carry the weight he wished they would. No matter how he thought about it, there was truly no way he would fully understand the measure of tragedy Gatling had endured without experiencing it firsthand for himself.

"Anyway." Gatling said, again surprising Mumen by reverting immediately back to his casual, neutral composure. "I named the gun _February II_ , after the original model that stole my heart while it was still warm, beating and bleeding."

"I, uhh…see." Mumen replied, unsure of how to react to…whatever sort of new information this was.

Gatling spent a few more minutes lost in memory, but blinked awake when he realized a new predicament.

Turning slowly towards his fellow hero, his voice became low and intent. "You do understand now that I've told you this much about myself…" He leaned across the table to bring his face so close to Mumen Rider that he had him completely eclipsed beneath his shadow. "I have no choice but to drag you to the back alley behind this restaurant and put you down like a sick dog." From this uncomfortable distance, Mumen could see a maddening darkness swirl in the scarred man's eyes as if they were windows to the black void itself. Whether real or imagined, his entire face seemed to melt into a harrowing skull, staring down at him through empty, hungry sockets. "I'll even let you choose which dumpster I leave your crumpled body in. _**Aren't I generous?**_ "

If Mumen Rider had a tail, it would be tucked between his legs and crushing his balls right now. The psychopath looming in front of him continued making _yanderu_ eyes at him, daring him to take a single breath.

Right as the cyclist felt his lungs about to give out, Gatling's murderous intent dissipated, and his expression became neutral. "Only teasing." His pseudo-victim wheezed reflexively. "But no seriously," the gunman continued, his face becoming dire again, "be sure to keep this shit to yourself. This whole discussion is between you, me, and the grave."

"I…I got it…" The athlete quivered meekly.

"Atta' boy. Now where was I… Ah yeah, and on top of dedicating the gun to her memory, I named each bullet I use after one of the children we were planning to start a family with."

To elaborate, Gatling proudly opened his cloak to reveal an extensive bandolier adorned in brass casings. Mumen's eyes went wide at the number. Even by conservative estimates, there was easily a solid hundred bouncing baby boys and girls on the belt.

"Holy crap…" The justice cyclist stated, overwhelmed by the detail. "All _those_ were going to be _children?_ "

"We had a very active sex life."

Mumen tried to make light of his own discomfort with a forced laugh. "Ahaha ha…t-m-i…"

Gatling hadn't seemed to catch the hint, because the guy just kept _right on_ going. "Truly a romantic gesture I am proud I thought of. Don't you see the poetry in it? The way the gun's job is to shoot bullets out of its barrels the same way a woman's job is to shoot babies out of her vagina?"

 _ **PFFFT~**_

The contents of Mumen's next coffee sip went sailing clear over his shoulder, this time easily covering twice the airtime it had before.

"God, kid…" Gatling scrunched his face up in disgust. "If the coffee tastes that bad, just quit drinking the damn shit."

"Ack…!" Mumen Rider spat, struggling between the two strong impulses of choking to death and laughing to death. "Hahaha! Ahh, aha! I can't, haa, breathe… Someone…haha…call an ambulance…!"

"Eh? The hell are you laughing about, you insensitive bastard?!" Every chuckle coming from the cyclist seemed to agitate the veteran even more. "I just recounted the tragic story of my lover dying in my arms, and you're sitting over there chortling like an asshole. Where's your respect for the dead, huh?!"

"Ahahahaha, ahaha, I'm sorry…I can't…haha, I can't stop…" He wiped a tear from his eye. "The way you said the v-word with such a serious look on your face…! Aahahaha~"

"What the hell kid. All I said was vagina."

"BWAAAHAHA, you said it again!"

"That's what it's called! That is the correct scientific terminology for a lady's cooch! Grow up for God's sake!"

Clearly deciding that uncontrollable laughter was the more appealing option, the Cyclist of Justice continued suffocating. Fighting with futility to contain himself, it took almost an instant for Mumen Rider to forget why he was so scared of him in the first place.

Meanwhile, the waitress serving them had since returned in time to hear the word 'vagina' being used more times in half a minute than she had heard all month. This obviously added to his embarrassment as she set their respective dishes in front of them with a crooked, awkward smile.

"Jesus Christ…" Gatling muttered and shook his head, preparing to take the first bite of his sandwich. "I should've stayed in the war."

* * *

The next day was about as typical as most Mondays were in the business district of Z-City.

Pedestrians came and went, and since it was about noon, a great majority of them wore business suits and carried briefcases on the way to and from their lunchbreaks in the massive food court of the center square.

So mundane was the clockwork of their routine life that no one seemed to take notice of a strange man walking down the busy streets, dressed quite differently from the other citizens.

Even though the weather was tepid, he wore a thick, baggy coat with fur trimming on the edges. He kept his hood up, with his eyes concealed behind a rounded pair of red-tinted glasses. His hands were jammed suspiciously in both pockets as he smirked menacingly from beneath the cowl resting on his face.

"Hah…hahaha." He could barely contain his mania as he hurried along the crowded block. "All these idiots look so oblivious… They have _no_ idea what's about to hit 'em…"

He wildly surveyed the surrounding area with hidden, beady eyes, checking for any signs of heroes, police, or even wary civilians. Finding no trouble, he stopped to lean against a wall, sizing up the integrity of the building for weaknesses he could exploit.

"Tch…no good." He frowned. "Not enough people here."

He got up, moved to the next establishment down the block, and repeated the ritual. He thought it was ironic how much faith people put into the places they walked in and out of. Typically, buildings are designed to provide them with a sense of comfort and security, and to shelter them from the harsh elements. But with a little _help_ , a building could also become a living nightmare. A tomb.

He meandered towards the entrance of a large supermarket, taking special note of the glass entryways that the grocery shoppers were passing through. He blended patiently in with the background and silently counted the number of customers he watched coming in and out of the store.

When that number steadily approached fifty people in a single minute, his demented grin returned, invisible to all but himself. "Bingo~" He breathed the word out like a kid who was just about to win a game of Hide-and-Seek. "Thank you _so_ much, Special Sale Day. You've brought me lots of lovely victims."

He stepped carefully out from around the corner and paced evenly towards the entrance, trying to appear as casual as possible. Eventually, he reached the glass doors, which opened automatically and invited the stranger in.

Once inside, his first call to action was weaving out of the security camera's line of sight before examining the interior of the store. He brushed his way past a woman examining a head of cabbage with her young daughter, making his way towards the back.

The spot he was looking for had to be perfect. By that, it had to be a place not too obvious for it to work, but not so vague that it was out of range to do any real damage. He chanted his mantra obsessively through his head as he searched; _'Bold, but not bluster. Not just bombast…but_ _ **bomb.**_ _'_

Wandering through the various aisles, he passed by two men who seemed to be in the middle of an argument. Initially intent on focusing on his task and not getting involved, the stranger stormed right by and disappeared around the corner when one of the men spoke up,

"What if I tried to cup the shell on my chest like a bikini? If it's too small to cover my pecs, _then_ can I have a discount?"

The cowled stranger's hooded head slowly re-emerged from behind the shelf, wondering what the hell he just heard.

"Sir, just…listen man," the store clerk replied to the bizarre question. "The special sale on coconuts ended fifteen minutes ago. I'm afraid I can't give you your discount."

The stranger focused his attention on the other man. He grunted nervously when he saw the white cape resting on a costume of vibrant yellow and red.

It was a hero.

He didn't recognize him, and by all visual means, he wasn't overly impressed by the hero's appearance. He had a plain-looking head, for starters, and his posture was lax and slouched.

"Look, just hear me out for a sec," the hero he was watching replied, apparently unwilling to give up on the sale. "What if I wanted to use the husk as a bowling ball? I can't though, right? I can only stick my finger in one of the holes; the other two are plugged. This coconut is clearly defective, so why not just let me pay the discount, and you won't have to throw it away for nothing?"

…And evidently, he was a fucking idiot too.

"They're called _pores,_ " the worker informed him, clearly fed up with his bullshit after arguing this case for ten minutes. "And they're _meant_ to be that way. There's nothing wrong with your coconut, so why not just pay the extra three yen and you can go home happy with it."

"AhhhhhhhhhHHHHHHH come ooooooooon~" Saitama's complaint came out almost as a whale noise.

"I'm sorry, sir. Better luck making it next time. Now if you'll excuse me, I have other customers to get to."

The store clerk walked off, leaving the bald hero to dwell on his defeat.

"Keh." The stranger watching the encounter let out a harsh sneer, amused by the pathetic display. He then returned to the task at hand. When he found a sweet spot amongst the section of fruit produce, he checked his visibility for cameras. Seeing only one, he turned his back to it to conceal what he was doing. Then, he leaned over the large stand, took his hands out of his pockets, and unzipped his coat. "This will do nicely…"

He had just gone about tucking an unknown object behind a row of hanging grapevines when suddenly,

"Hey man, what's your scope of knowledge on coconuts?"

" _BWAHH!"_ The sound of Saitama's voice caused the man to bump his head on the upper shelf of the stand, spilling peaches and plums all over the floor. He spun around to regard the hero with a mortified stare. "D-Don't sneak up on people like that!" He spat indignantly.

"Oh," Saitama scratched his cheek thoughtlessly. "Sorry, my bad. I thought you heard me coming."

"I-I was busy." The stranger returned, trying to sound inscrutable.

"Busy doing what?"

"I…" The guy peered out from the corner of his glasses at the device still halfway jutting out from the fruit pile. He leaned against it to shield it from view, making soft attempts at nudging the rest of it behind the stall as he continued…well, stalling. "I was busy…sizing up these two coconuts!"

Before Saitama could react, the older man reached over for two more of the hard fruit resting on the stand.

The caped hero's eyes seemed to brighten up with hope.

When the stranger watched the baldy's mouth stretch into a big stupid smile, he instinctively knew he made a mistake. _'Shit.'_ he grimaced internally. _'Why did I have to say coconuts…'_

"I knew it…" Saitama spoke, taking a determined step forward.

"Kn-knew what…?" The stranger replied, taking an equally determined step backwards.

"That you…" Saitama's face turned serious, and he held up an almost deadly finger to point at him. "…are a man of culture as well!" The man's stiff posture slightly loosened in response to the false scare. "So get this," the costumed man continued. "I was trying to convince this jerky store management guy that my coconut was defective because it's only got one hole I can poke through, but he told me it wasn't. Your thoughts?"

The stranger blinked. "Thoughts on…your coconut?"

"Hell yeah my coconut!" The hero shouted in outrage. "I wanna know if his information is credible or not. He didn't look like a coconut expert to me…"

"Oh. Well…" The stranger tried putting thought into his answer. "I would…argue that…he's wrong?"

Saitama smacked a red gloved fist down on the open palm of his other hand, delighted at the news.

"I _knew_ it! I knew you were a man who understands like I do! So tell me…how do you choose your coconuts?"

The stranger had almost no idea how to respond to a question of such inane meaning. "I…uhh…I weigh them…"

"Yeah?" Saitama nodded intently, seeming to hang on his every word. "And how do you tell which one's good by weighing them?"

"I…I weigh them…" He fidgeted uncomfortably to give a convincing answer. Hopefully this guy was as stupid as he was depending on. "By attaching my pet bird to it and seeing if he can lift it."

Saitama's smile disappeared. "Your bird?"

Bullets of sweat were practically shooting out of the guy's face as he nodded slowly. "Yeah, uhhh, you know, the southern swallows are really good at determining which hard fruits are fresh by…picking them up…and…dropping them."

Saitama put a finger to his chin in deep reflection. "Uh-huh…"

"Yeah, well, unfortunately my swallow flew away from me, so I have to go and uhh…get him now. …Bye!"

The stranger heard Saitama grunt in surprise at his abrupt exit, but he ignored it and powered forward. As long as he could get far enough away before this cheap-ass hero put it all together, his escape would be ensured – and so would the fate of the entire business district.

The strange man paced frantically to the doors, and when he ran through them back into the sunlight of the open world, he felt his victory in splendid view.

"HOLD IT!"

The stranger screeched to a halt and turned back to see Saitama staring him down, looking more serious than the man thought such an idiot could.

The man scowled back at him, giving the bald hero a look of pure hate. All he needed was to see the insight gleaming sharply through the hero's eyes, and he knew that the jig was up. His cover was blown. He must have found what he had hidden in the store.

"Heh." Despite his vulnerable position, the man found himself laughing. "Ha…hahahahaha! So you've managed to work it all out, did you? Impressive, kid. Veeeeery impressive." He put his hands together in slow claps of mocking applause. Saitama remained silent; his stern expression remained unchanged as he continued. "But that wasn't the _only_ one I placed, see. I already set the timer for the other ones too."

Saitama narrowed his eyes. "Other ones?"

"Gaha! Hahaha! Ahhh so you didn't know. I guess you really are as stupid as I pegged you for after all! Yes, boy. I placed bombs in various locations. As we speak, they're all heading to key parts of different cities. And even if you knew where they all were, you'd have less than two hour to even reach _one_ of them! Not that I'd ever let you! I have the remote detonator with me right now!"

For the first time since revealing his true motives, he saw Saitama's eyes widen with startling realization.

The terrorist's already smug grin deepened even more at that. "What. You thought I'd be too dull to conduct my broad vision without taking all the necessary precautions?! Aahahaha! Yes, you may have saved the lives of everyone here, but come tonight, and every news channel from A to Z will be broadcasting to the world that it was I – the Serial Bomber – who caused the single greatest act of domestic terror ever sustained by the public! Geheheheheh! I'll be famous! And man, will the Hero Association ever regret ousting me from the rankings of their shitty little club!"

"Dude, what are you talking about?"

The Bomber's grin disappeared almost instantly, confused at the question.

Saitama regarded him with a blank, bubbly stare, pulling something up to show the terrorist what he was holding in his hand. "I was just running after you to give _this_ back. You dropped it when you bumped your head back there."

In the heart-dropping reveal of what the bald hero held, the Serial Bomber's mouth fell opened so wide that his cowl completely fell from his face, exposing the stenciled pedo-stache of a very horrified middle-aged man.

"MY DETONATOR!" He shouted without thinking, immediately slapping a hand over his mouth in renewed shock.

"Oh? So this is important to you?" Saitama asked in a casual tone.

"Wha? Psh, no…absolutely not. That's just…a decoy. The real detonator is still with me." A bit of a stretch perhaps, but to any terrorist, one last bluff was worth all the aforementioned effort. "I-If you don't believe me…" His grin returned, though noticeably more crooked. "Then why don't you press the button!"

Saitama's face darkened as he lowered the makeshift remote. "Bro. How could you. We bonded over coconut trivia."

At this point, it was clear to the Bomber that the baldy had no intention of falling for the ruse. But that didn't mean that escaping was out of the question.

The man turned his heels and ran out into the street, forcefully knocking an unlucky pedestrian off his moped scooter and mounting the seat.

He twisted back around only to flip Saitama off. "Gahaha, smell ya later, loser!" He taunted from the small vehicle. He revved the engine into full gear and left Caped Baldy in the dust.

As Saitama watched the man speed away, he mournfully stared down at what he held in his little plastic shopping bag. "Man…what a way to spend an extra three lousy yen." He pulled the coconut out of the bag and chucked it high through the air. Then he waited patiently, watching the man continue shrinking into the distance until his ride practically capsized on top of him, indicating that the hard fruit had finally struck its mark.

The Bomber rolled out, hitting the pavement of the street face-first. It didn't matter though – the coconut had knocked him unconscious long before he crashed.

* * *

Cold, tired and clammy, the terrorist woke up, greeted by the sight that the world had turned upside down. Or – upon further investigation – he had.

When he realized he was being held out by his ankle at the tip top of Z-City's tallest skyscraper, his first natural inclination was quite straightforward…

Panic. And plenty of it.

He kicked and screamed hysterically, writhing like a worm on a hook while the bald hero dangling him over the entire city was inattentively cleaning out his own ear with his free pinky.

After a few minutes of frantic nonsense, Saitama finally lost his patience and gave the man an angry jostle. " Oi! Stop it already!"

The bomber, battered by the sudden force, did as he was told and hung limp in his outstretched hand.

"Nice view from up here, huh?" Saitama asked.

Serial Bomber gave him a shaken grin from below. "Heh…you won't actually do it, will you. You're just a regular goody-goody hero. I can tell just by how you dress. You've never killed a person before."

"And I'd like that not to change today, if it's alright with you."

"Heh…you got nothin' on me, kid. Rough me up a bit if you want, but I'll heal. The people hit by the bombs…won't."

"Listen man, I really—" Saitama's response was cut off when he realized that the man had somehow slipped out of his grasp and was now busy screaming his way to the ground. Saitama looked back at the hand where he held him to find a black boot dangling in its grip. He sweat-dropped. "…Ah crap."

The Serial Bomber was careening down story after story of the skyscraper, and when he saw the solid land below fast closing in on him, he shut his eyes as hard as he could to brace for the end.

"Oopsie."

He opened his eyes in mute shock to see that by some miracle, Saitama had caught him in his arms, inches from the fatal concrete of the sidewalk.

The bald hero gave him an embarrassed look. "Sorry, lemme try that again."

Before the villain could even protest, they were back up at the needle tip of the same tall building.

"I've always wanted to try this on a bad guy." Saitama mentioned. His giddy smile suddenly morphed into rage, and in a deep, gravelly voice befitting of someone with Stage 3 throat cancer, he bellowed down at the criminal's face. "WHERE ARE THE OTHER BOMBS. _WHERE ARE THEY!_ "

"Jesus, man!" The guy was almost crying now. "If you actually drop me, I swear to god, I'll—"

" **SWEAR TO MEEEE!"**

"I'll-I'll tell you! I'll tell you! Holy fuck, you're insane! Besides the bomb back at the store, I planted others on three trains heading to different cities!"

Saitama's enraged face remained frozen on him for a bit longer before returning to its cartoonish smile. "Hey, it worked. Cool."

"I-I'll give you the schedule for each destination, just don't drop me again~~~!"

"I don't think so, chum…"

"Eh…?!"

Saitama raised the arm holding him higher until the bomber's inverted face was level with his captor's.

"You're coming with me. It would be bothersome if you made something up while I wasn't here to punish you, right?"

The traumatized criminal swallowed sharply, but gave a single reluctant nod at the B-Class hero's logic.

"Okay, hold on tight…" Before the terrorist could even ask what for, Saitama took a swan dive off the building, making the poor crook relive his acrophobic nightmare for a second time.

The hero put his knee through inches of concrete when he landed on it, and the bomber melted out of his arms like jelly.

"Jeez…" Saitama sighed before proceeding to grab the limp man by his ankle again and drag him haphazardly through the street. "Who the flip monologues about themselves like that to someone they don't even know? Only shallow idiots do that…"

As he continued to parade the crumpled villain through a district of uneasy onlookers, he gave the baddie behind him one last side glance before muttering in disappointment,

"I'll bet you don't even _like_ coconuts…"

 **A/N: Yeah, so sadly no Tatsumaki action in this one. Sorry. As much as I wanted to work with her now, progression has a natural order. Besides, I like to give other heroes the time of day too. I'm working to build layers on this story by expanding more than a few characters, and hopefully that's paying off. If not, well… :/**

 **And while we're balls deep into it, I'll just admit that since Death Gatling's character is meant to be serious, part of me feels** _ **really**_ **bad about how I made light of his tragic backgro—you know what? No it doesn't. This is what ONE and/or Murata get for updating their shit so slow. Honestly men. Hurry up and give your characters the exposure they deserve, or dumb writers like me will give them the exposure they don't.**

 **By the way, the Serial Bomber wasn't made up by me. I just tweaked his character a bit. If you don't know, watch the OVA episode "The Sisters Who Have Too Many Things Happening." It's a thing.**

' **Til next time!**


	5. Crazy Train

**A/N: Ahhhh, my lovely readers. Today's chapter is particularly special. I tried writing it as fast as I could, spending quite a few long nights fighting through headaches until I got it reasonably the way I want it. Why? Because it's part of a birthday gift. Happy Belated Birthday to dearest friend Miri9119! I know I couldn't get the chapter ready in time, but I barely made it within the same week, so it still counts!**

 **Spoiler Alert, this chapter is gonna be about as long as the object in the damn title, so I'm rather hoping that doesn't piss any of you off. I never mean for these things to get quite so wordy, but you never learn how much you have to write about until you start typing.**

 **Enjoooooooooy.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own One-Punch Man.**

 **Chapter 5: Crazy Train**

Fubuki crossed her arms and tapped her foot impatiently, waiting for the scheduled bullet train to arrive and pick her up. It was running late for some reason. Typical.

She spared the area a sweeping glance. Empty. Somehow, some _way,_ she happened to have the entire station all to herself.

The silence was eerie, but then again, she knew she had to prepare for plenty more of the same now that she was officially losing her personal assemblage of subordinates.

The Blizzard Group was dissipating. Since the new policy of the Hero Association was going live in less than two days, she had to painfully watch member after member take their bow and leave her company. She could tell by the wet shine in their eyes that they wanted to fight this 'Rule of Two' with all their combined might, and while their resolve to do so had deeply moved her, she managed to talk them down from it. If any recognition could come from petitioning against the organization that funded them, it wasn't exactly the kind of attention she wanted for them. The best she could do was to tell them to swallow the bitter pill, and to assure them that this was not truly the end for the Group. In fact, she convinced them rather to see it as an opportunity to expand the gang's influence by swimming with the bigger S-Class fish. If there was any advantage to be had from this arrangement, it was that they were in a potential sweet spot for a little Divide and Conquer.

Still, it was with no small part of herself that she hated this position too. She devoted nearly two years of her youth to pulling this posse together, and now it's taking three effortless days to backslide right back into where she had started: by herself. The proud achievement of unifying all fellow B-Classes under her banner was looking more and more like a pipedream, but she knew Sekingar's reputation, and she knew _damn_ well that butting heads with him and the rest of the board committee was like dancing with career suicide. If her sister couldn't complain her way out of it, then she might as well be half as lucky.

Fubuki gave her arms a submissive rub, feeling a bit exposed without having the familiar black suits around to support her flank. On her own, Blizzard was still quite a force to be reckoned with, but she found herself already missing the comfortable shade of the towering Mountain Ape's shadow and Eyelash's over-eagerness to hold every door open for her and slip her sunglasses off whenever they stepped indoors.

But most of all, she missed Lily's bright and cheerful smile.

The fond memory of the young girl made the esper's face sag with loneliness. As she recalled, Lily was among the first wave of followers to leave, though her sad puppy eyes clearly communicated that she would have given anything to stay. But since Silver Fang's residence was practically half the Alphabet away from their headquarters, the girl needed to get a head start if she had any chance of making it in time. It was so like her not wanting to disappoint anyone with late attendance.

Fubuki wondered to herself if Lily had already made it to Bang's dojo okay, but the distant thought was interrupted by the familiar roar of a train as it pulled in front of her, screeching to a halt.

She took a heavy sigh and stepped onboard.

The clean fragrance of the well-maintained transport graced her nose as she surveyed the long aisle for a quiet corner to sit. Each window section had four seats which were split off into two pairs that faced each other. The compartment had passengers, but most of them were gathered towards the front, leaving the back half pretty much empty.

She ambled down the aisle a bit, surprising a girl in a yellow hoodie who gasped as she walked by. Fubuki took a seat in the next section ahead, doing her best to make herself comfortable.

She planted her elbow on the armrest of her chair and turned to stare out the window, watching the train accelerate and pull her out of the station and into the vast fields of green farmland that existed between the city limits.

She did her best to take her mind off the fate of her group. She felt like a mother hen the way she fretted over each individual member's diverging path. There should really be no reason. They were all in B-Class, and they would each have S-Ranked heroes to look out for them too. The matter was nothing to grey her hair up over.

And then there was yet another protruding thought – of her little big sister, Tatsumaki.

Where reality most fits, she told that plain-looking "Caped Baldy" her location out of impulse rather than much else. Something about seeing her overbearing, domineering, higher-than-mighty sibling raise such a racket at the assembly just made her want to do it. The opportunity came along maybe once in a blue moon to get a one-up on the woman that had long eclipsed her ambitions in every conceivable aspect, so the temptation was far too great for Fubuki not to take advantage.

Where there should have been satisfaction, however…came a looming sense of dread that gave her goosebumps.

What if she had already caught on that it was her? It didn't take a great detective to realize that not many people actually knew where the Tornado of Terror kicked up her feet at night. It was this lingering, foreboding feeling that made her eventually come to wonder if it was such a bright idea to tell that bald guy where her short-tempered atom bomb of a sister was in the first place.

She shook the thought from her head, hoping that she was just being paranoid.

A half hour stretched by with silence as her only company. She soon found that the soothing motion of the ride eased her conscience a bit. Just as she was closing her eyes to rest, there came a sudden sound.

"Umm…Miss Fubuki?"

She craned her head to look up at where the soft voice had come from behind her seat. Recognizing that it was the yellow hoodie girl that she had passed, she relaxed her face.

The girl appeared to be around teen-looking age, if not early twenties. She had short, dark brown hair and lighter brown eyes. And even by advanced standards, her face had cute features. Her timid, gentle smile deepened as she hung over the esper's chair and spoke again. "I knew it! I knew it was you I saw pass me…!"

Fubuki tightened her lips to give the stranger a hard stare. "Who are you?"

"Uh-uhmm…" The girl rubbed her head sheepishly. "I just wanted to…to say how I'm such a huge admirer of yours. I'm Swim! I'm a hero too…!" She shut her eyes with a hint of discouragement. "But…yoouu probably haven't even heard of me since I'm only in Class C."

Fubuki narrowed her eyes, not entirely appreciating the feeling of talking over her shoulder to someone who was almost breathing down her neck. "What do you want?"

Swim's eyes shot open in surprise, as if remembering the reason she had come to introduce herself. "Oh! I-If it isn't too much trouble…" She held a small pen and paper out to her with noticeably shaky hands. The girl blushed with bottomless apprehension. "I was hoping to…get your autograph…?" She pushed the objects she held down towards her a bit further to emphasize her wish. "Please…?"

To say Fubuki wasn't in the mood to interact with anyone was the understatement of the week. It evidently wasn't clear to this girl why the esper made a point to hold a seat at the most vacant corner of the train. She wanted to be left alone.

Yet looking into those eyes, she realized that this girl had the same pleading puppy stare as Lily, and it was by that same token that she just couldn't find it in herself to tell "Swim" to take a hike. Besides, despite how elegantly she dressed, Fubuki didn't receive requests for her autograph every day – and was therefore rather susceptible to flattery.

She tried to play off the gesture as an annoyance by rolling her eyes like it was the sixtieth fan to ask for her signature since getting out of bed. "Fine, I guess… But come back around here and face me properly. I don't appreciate people talking to me from behind."

"Ah! Sorry!"

Despite the embarrassment, the lesser hero's smile widened happily at the acceptance, and she hopped down from the chair to walk around and greet her idol with full visibility.

"Th-Thanks so much, Miss Fubuki!" She praised sweetly as her idol proceeded to scrawl her name on the paper. "Actually…is it all right if I call you…Boss?"

The esper broke away from what she was doing to give the younger girl a quizzical look.

Understanding the need for elaboration, Swim continued, "I-I mean, I know I don't actually work for you or anything…and truth be told, my hero career hasn't been going so well lately. Even by C-Class standards, I'm not that impressive… In fact, the hero I was paired up with has already refused to work with me and quit the association." The girl turned her head down in shame. "I was thinking about quitting for the longest time too…so today I thought I'd take the train to see the ocean and clear my head."

"…Okay?"

"But you know…I always thought that if I ever made it into B-Class…it would be awesome if you would let me to join your group! Because someday…" Her face beamed. "…I wanna be just like you, Miss Fubuki!"

The older woman examined the junior hero who had just proclaimed her interest in joining her gang. With such a sweet and innocent face, Fubuki couldn't help but wonder how much this girl truly knew about how half of her manpower was acquired in the first place. Her underlings had grown fond of her _now_ (at least she'd like to think so), but it certainly didn't start out that way. It took time to gain their loyalty and trust, and she was wondering if and how she should explain to this girl the method she used for recruitment that so many other heroes had frowned upon.

After a moment of pause, Fubuki opened her mouth to answer, but just then the compartment door next to them slid open, and both girls turned to see someone carrying a tall stack of boxes their way. Because of their cumbersome size, the boxes hid the guy's face from view as he approached them.

It was only when he set the them down next to the chairs and took the empty seat next to Fubuki did she get a good look at his features.

Metal arms…feathery blond hair…edgy golden eyes with black sclera.

' _Hey…'_ Fubuki narrowed her eyes at him in recollection. _'He's that one S-Class hero from yesterday. The one who was with Big Sis's new partner…'_

The two higher-ranked heroes both heard an airy gasp escape from Swim, who quickly recognized him too.

She put her hands over her mouth in complete surprise at the coincidence that an S-Class hero had boarded the same train that she had already found the exalted leader of Blizzard on.

Her star-struck eyes shimmered brightly as she remarked, "D-Demon Cyborg?" with a squeaky voice barely audible from behind her clasped fingers.

Genos stared up at Swim for a long matter of seconds with an unreadable expression. She fidgeted nervously under his prolonging gaze until he finally spoke.

"Your jacket." He stated without blinking. "It is very yellow."

"Oh!" The two pink circles on the girl's cheeks turned a shade pinker. "Th-thank you!" She did a quick doubletake to think more about what he just said. "Umm…thank you?" She was hung up on whether his statement was intended as a compliment or simply an observation.

"Genos."

The young cyborg turned to face the woman that he didn't even realize was sitting next to him.

"Fubuki." He returned. "B-Class, Rank 1. Sole founder and leader of the B-Class clique, the Blizzard Group."

"H-Hey!" The esper retorted, offended by his phrasing. "It's not a clique!"

"Club."

"Not a club either! This is the Hero Association, not some preppy high school!"

Genos tilted his head in a vague attempt to understand her problem, but passively brushed it off. "I have taken small liberties to do some research on you since yesterday's introduction."

"Oho~" Fubuki flashed him a foxy grin. "Interested in me, are we?"

"Of course." Genos replied without missing a beat. "You are without doubt related to that undergrown weed, Tatsumaki. Therefore, I have placed you under intensive scrutiny until I can be certain you will not pose as an irritant for my master."

Fubuki's playful grin diminished into disappointment. "Master? Surely you _can't_ be referring to the bald man with that laundry sheet of a cape hanging off his back…"

"Master Saitama holds a very deceitful appearance, it is true." Genos agreed. "I have done research on that too. I am now 86% convinced that this is an intentional façade meant to lull opponents into a false sense of security and seize the element of surprise. It has been quite successful thus far."

Fubuki's eyes narrowed with annoyed suspicion. Oh goody – another weirdo. Here he had a charming, beautiful woman sitting right beside him, and he managed to turn a perfectly good pick-up line into some odd obsession about Caped Baldy.

If there was even any to start with, the Blizzard of Hell's faint interest in her new visitor had flown out the window. Now she was back to just wishing to be alone again.

"U-umm…Demon Cyborg…sir?"

Genos turned his gaze back up towards the shorter girl who was still standing in the aisle next to them. Her pointer fingers were pressed together in a nervous manner as she struggled for the words to leave her mouth. "I-If you could…after Miss Fubuki's done…I would be deeply honored to collect your autograph too."

Genos and Fubuki exchanged glances at the request, and the latter closed her eyes and snapped her head away in irritation, haphazardly tossing the pen and paper into his lap to show that she was done with it.

Not knowing what else to do, Genos silently complied, using the advanced calibration of his mechanical fingers to strike a perfect signature on the page before she could blink.

Swim's eyes lit up as he returned the paper to her. "Th-thank you both so much!" She threw her head forward in a deep bow. "You've made me so happy!"

The reclining pair nonchalantly gave her a matching shrug.

Suddenly, the boxes sitting next to Genos began to jostle and rumble around, despite the smooth traction of the train ride. The girls looked at it with two different degrees of disturbance written on their face, prompting Genos to explain himself.

"They are crabs." He informed them with a guiltless look which seemed to imply that he thought what he was carrying around was completely natural. "Crabs for my master."

Before either flanking female could even think to ask him what he needed _living crabs_ for, the same door next to them opened again, and through it came walking the _second_ strangest thing Fubuki had seen that day.

A man of moderately tall stature; appearing even taller thanks to the silver-plated armor that covered his frame from head to toe. Instantly the first feature that popped out to all three of them were the two big curved horns jutting out from the sides of his helmet right where his ears should be. Just the way he stood with closed fists pressed into his hips in the stereotypical 'power pose' was enough to tell them that he was a hero of some kind too.

While Fubuki and Genos were still trying to discover why the man seemed so familiar, a re-ignited excitement in Swim's face told them both that they were about to find out very soon.

The metal-clad man turned to address an unseen person behind him who had not yet stepped through the door. "If you hate crowded spaces that much, this is looking like a much quieter place to sit." Good God, even the way he _spoke_ was heroic. The man had a fairly deep voice which echoed hollowly through the full helm disguising his facial features.

His footsteps thumped heavily as he neared the three other heroes, stopping only when Swim jumped out in front of him. "Wild Horn? No way… You're here too…?!"

"Hm?" The man tilted his helm to look down at the girl who was at least a good head shorter than he was. "Why hello there, little lady. And who might you be?"

The question must have flown right over her head, because all the giddy girl did was vigorously shake the hero's gauntleted hand, overcome with delight at the notion that not just one or two, but _three_ popular heroes had all come on the same transport as she did. She blessed her luck, tearfully thanking Kami for having her choose this exact moment on this exact train to go traveling.

But the surprises weren't over yet.

The second person had finally stepped through the door, and everyone caught glimpse of the icy blond hair that was neatly brushed to the side of the newcomer's face with elven grace.

Fubuki and Genos were both surprised to see who it was, but Swim elevated the meaning of "surprise" to a whole different galaxy.

The doe-eyed girl stiffened up like a deer in headlights. She stood completely paralyzed by the stunning vision making its way towards the small group. Unbeknownst to her, she was still locked with Wild Horn in the frozen handshake, and when the B-Class bull caught on that she was without her faculties, he made a polite attempt to pull his hand away. He encountered some trouble, however, as the girl was gripping him with more strength than he imagined a person of her size capable of.

As he finally managed to break free of her, Swim clasped both of her hands over her heart as she looked off into the distance at the newest guest, trying to convey with her mouth what her brain seemed to have so much trouble trying to process.

"Fl…Fl…"

It was as if the name was being blocked from her vocabulary like the broken link of an Error 404.

The man approaching her gave an unappreciative stare for the way she gawked at him with her mouth hanging open. His long white cape seemed to drift freely behind him against a non-existent breeze as he adjusted the ornate eight-pointed star clasp that held it up from the front.

"Fl…Fla…"

Error 404: File still not found – you silly bitch.

The man of the minute ignored the girl's continued stutters and leered over at the other two heroes sitting down. Wishing not to draw any more attention to herself, Fubuki turned her head back towards the window while Genos chose rather to acknowledge him head-on.

"I recognize you," the cyborg gave him a dangerous stare, although as in many common cases, he didn't actually intend for it to look so dangerous. "S-Class, Rank 13—"

"FLAAAAAAAAAASH!"

Finally overcoming her mental block, the C-Class girl let out his name in a rapturous squeal.

The blond swordsman winced painfully at the unnecessarily loud announcement of his presence. _'Oh God…'_ He mourned internally as the girl continued fan-gasming in front of him. _'Not another one.'_

"Oh my gosh! Ohmaigosh ohmaigosh…! I can't believe this is happening." She celebrated, clapping her hands lightly together from her joined wrists like a kid in a candy shop. "You're here, and…" She turned back to the other hero who had just arrived. "Wild Horn, is your partner really _Flashy Flash?!_ "

"Ahaha…" The armored hero rubbed the back of his head, "Eyyyyup. You better believe it."

"M-Mister Flash, umm, sir! I-I mean sama! Err, I mean _milord…!_ " Swim was unsure of how to properly address him. "It would make my whole _year_ if I could get an autograph—" Her target of praise callously brushed right past her to take the empty seat across from where the other two heroes were. "…from…you…too." The girl's words were left to hang.

Even though the effort felt moot from behind his helmet, Wild Horn gave her an unseen apologetic glance before mirroring his senior partner's action and filling the last available seat next to him.

"Demon Cyborg." The fair-featured young man spoke back to Genos in an even tone. "I recognized you too… Only a little bit, though. Admittedly, you didn't make much of an impression on me during the incident at City A."

The cyborg's effortless frown deepened at the comment. "Perhaps it would profit you to realize that I caught neither hide nor hair of you during the action either, Flashy Flash."

The caped ninja's steel-blue eyes gleamed coldly. "Of course you didn't. The food chain only bends in one direction. No one catches me – I catch _them._ "

Before Genos could muster up any sort of retort, Flash's attention had already moved on from him, turning instead to the woman in the black dress sitting one seat over.

"Jigoku no Fubuki…" No one saw her face from the way she had it to the window, but the esper's shoulders shuddered unpleasantly at being called out. "It's quite irregular to see the queen so far away from her worker bees."

Aggravated by his insinuations directed at her Group, she snapped her head to face the S-Class speedster with angry eyes and gritting teeth.

"They are not 'worker bees,' and I've never _once_ called myself a queen. It's _Boss_ Fubuki to them – and _Miss_ Fubuki to you."

Flash crossed his arms with a raised eyebrow. He made it a casual hobby to match wits with the nearest capable brain, but being challenged by a weaker hero just wasn't a welcome part of the game. "Oh? That's curious. And what makes you think I'll start addressing a common thug with such a gaudy honorific?"

"Thug…?" At some point, Swim had tuned in to the conversation, and she was baffled by Flashy Flash calling the Blizzard of Hell such a damning thing. "Wh-what do you mean? Miss Fubuki is wonderful…"

Flash didn't dignify the girl's presence with a single glance, but answered regardless without taking his eyes off of what he considered to be the watered-down shadow of Tatsumaki.

"You mean you don't know?" He asked the rookie hero plainly. "I suppose that's not so surprising. It's not the first thing she tells people about herself. But you'll find that word travels _pretty_ fast. Many of us already know how her group managed to grow so much in just under a year. I'll pass you a hint: it has nothing to do with popularity – and it _certainly_ has nothing to do with money."

"You're going too far, Flash." Fubuki warned him, although she secretly questioned the logic in doing so. Could she actually _handle_ someone like Flashy Flash?

Perhaps she won over in terms of raw power, but power wasn't the reason he was sitting pretty in S-Class while she wasn't. The clue for _that_ mystery came with his name. Supposedly, he won every encounter by preventing them from even escalating into actual fights. He could slash, stab, puncture, and maim all before the threat even knew he was there – and those were the tactics he used against _monsters._ Like many other humans, a fleshy specimen like Fubuki wasn't exactly built for heavy punishment. One clean nick of an important artery was all it would take.

Ultimately, Flash did exactly as she feared and called her on her bluff.

He leaned in, giving way to a grim creaking sound from his chair. "Accounting for how much your little sheepling over there seems to realize, I actually doubt I've gone far _enough._ "

Feeling the unsettling energy rise from between the two conflicting heroes, Wild Horn decided that it was time to try and intercede. "Hey now Flash, come on. There isn't any need to kick a hornet's nest around with Blizzard-san, is there?"

"Stay out of this, Wild Horn."

"Your Power Ranger cosplayer friend has a point." Fubuki pointed out.

The suit of armor tilted his horned head with befuddlement. "Cosplayer…?"

"But seriously though," She continued pressing at Flash, "why are you coming after me like this? It's not like you're personally involved in my affairs, and even if you were, it still wouldn't be any of your business."

"Please excuse him." Wild Horn tried appealing to her. "It's just that Flash has a very strong conviction, and he doesn't care for bullies that much…"

Fubuki dropped her jaw in outrage. "So you're calling me a _bully_ now too?!"

"Ack! N-No, that came out wrong. I only meant—"

"Excuses be damned." Flash cut his partner off. "She knows what she does is wrong, but she still does it. That's the thing about tyrants. To them, power is like a bag of potato chips – they can't stop until the bag is empty." He let loose a small grin. "I assume that's how you know Tornado is your sister."

"Heh." She gave him a glaring smirk. "Funny thing that you should mention my sister. Right now you _so_ remind me of her."

"Is that a compliment?"

She raised her eyebrows, condemning him with a look. "What do _you_ think?"

The slight amusement Flash displayed fell from his face, replaced with a hard scowl.

"Um…Miss Fubuki…?" Swim was almost too timid to speak up as she looked to her female idol with those same innocent pleading eyes. "What's he talking about?"

"Tch…" The esper glared down at the corner of her window, biting her lip on what to say next. Eventually she just snapped her head to face Genos, who was still holding on to some deep thought. "W-Well? Why aren't you jumping in? He insulted you too, didn't he?!"

As if waking from a lucid dream, Genos snapped his head up and fired more words at his fellow S-Class hero. "Well if you think that food chains only bend in one direction, you have clearly never heard of omnivores!"

The entire group fell silent. Question marks were practically dotting above each of the other heroes' blank faces.

"A…Are you serious…?" Flash blinked. "The window for that discussion closed like five minutes ago."

"Yes, but the point remains!" Genos retorted.

Fubuki slapped a hand over her miserable face. At least the focus of the argument had shifted away from her.

Flash on the other hand was appalled by the lack of wit to be found floating amongst the group. Why did he even choose to sit down here? It's not like anyone here was _friends_ with each other…

"To hell with this…" He muttered beneath his breath. "I can feel my braincells wither just by breathing the same air as these people. I'm moving."

Feeling discomfort around the woman he inadvertently helped to offend, Wild Horn stood up out of his chair too. "W-Wait, Flash. I'm coming with you."

As they both started walking away, Fubuki let out a great sigh of relief…

…But what happened next made clear to her that she hadn't held her breath long enough.

"Braincells cannot wither just by breathing air, you fool!" Genos shouted after him, going directly against Fubuki's will and testament by provoking the swordsman further. "Incredible! Do you really understand nothing about biology at all?!"

Blizzard gasped, feeling the poison of all the stress she just breathed out come back into her lungs as Flash stopped dead in his tracks. The ninja's face was stricken with a dark shadow as he glared menacingly out at them from over his shoulder.

"What…did you just call me?"

The bloody tone of his voice had even Genos suggesting that what he said was a bad idea.

Before anyone else could react, Flash had practically warped right in front of the cyborg using a burst of speed impossible for the untrained eye to follow. He had murder written in his eyes.

"Demon Cyborg, what the hell were you thinking?!" Fubuki spat, finding herself unexpectedly siding against him. "They were almost gone! In fact, why are ANY of you even here?! I was here first, and all I wanted was to be left alone!"

"This is a public transportation. I have a right to be here." Genos explained to her, apparently forgetting all about the new enemy he had just made still standing over him. "Listen closely. I have put carefully research into the optimal temperature and humidity necessary in preserving fresh crabs. And using advanced thermal imaging, I have swept the entire compartment of the train and found that right here is the closest I can achieve for those ideal conditions. For the sake of my sensei's delicious crab pot, I shall not yield my position, even though, as you have earlier stated, you were here first."

Fubuki blinked at him with a flustered expression, unsure of how to even process this argument. Before she could respond, Wild Horn eagerly took the floor.

"You have crab meat in there?! Awesome, I love crabs! Mind if I—"

Genos snapped his head towards the armored hero with so much malice that even Flashy Flash took an unconscious step back.

"You touch those crabs." The cyborg seethed after the deadly pause. "And I will have your horns."

"Whoa man." Wild Horn instinctively reached up to the two distinct spires he took special pride in maintaining. "Don't you go threatening the horns. Don't you know these're the first things you get for messing with the bull?"

"Oh who cares about your stupid horns!" Fubuki yelled. "All of you just go away! I already told you I want to be _alone!_ "

"That's funny coming from someone who likes to be surrounded by minions to do her dirty work all the time." Flash sneered back.

"That…That's not true!"

"Zowie, Miss Blizz," Wild Horn chimed in, "you're like a real live ice queen."

"And _stop_ _calling me a queen!_ "

"Let it go…" Genos admonished.

The argument quickly grew heated, and with Fubuki and Genos rising out of their seats, the scene had escalated into a four-way free-for-all. As they continued to raise their voices and shout over each other, other passengers on the train turned to give them uncomfortable, in some cases frightened looks. Swim stood off by herself outside the small circle of rabbling heroes, feeling isolated and helpless as she pleaded for them to calm down.

"No…" Her insides ran cold. She began shivering, pressing her hands against her ears to muffle the chaos. With her face devolving into a look of horror, she desperately continued pleading to them; her voice getting weaker and fainter with each failed attempt. "Please…all of you…please stop this… You have to…"

"You have a total lack of respect! What would my sensei say if he were here!" Genos yelled.

"Well he's _not,_ and I couldn't give less of a damn what your 'sensei' thinks!" Flash fired back.

"Can't you pricks just take this outside?" Fubuki asked irritably.

"But the train's going like 320 kilos an hour!" Wild Horn protested.

"Precisely."

Against the much louder vocalizations of her seniors, the sound of Swim's pleas dissolved long before they could reach anywhere near the epicenter of contention.

After a minute more of enduring the heart-breaking scene of her idols fighting each other, the young girl had finally had all she could possibly stomach.

She took a deep breath and shut her eyes as tight as they could go.

Then…

" _STOP!"_

Fubuki, Genos, Wild Horn – and even Flashy Flash – fell silent at the sudden shout, turning to stare in awe at the person they had each forgotten was even there.

Swim now visibly trembled from where she stood, as if she could shatter from a single touch. She breathed heavily from the exertion of having emptied her lungs, gripping the bottom of her jacket in an effort to keep herself together. Her cheeks and nose were both flush with red, and they could clearly see that it was from an emotion altogether different from the overwhelming cheerfulness she had when they arrived. Hot tears were welling up in her eyes, making them shine with her grief. She bit down on her lip in a vain effort to keep it from quivering, but every few seconds, the small hiccup of a sob would escape.

The image of her happy, bubbly face changing so drastically into what it was now had utterly robbed the other heroes of any belligerent words they might have had left for each other.

"…What…" The girl fought for the strength to speak without breaking down, "…are you doing?"

The four heroes remained silent, all continuing to stare at the girl who fought so hard not to cry at the miserable picture she had seen. A few more long minutes crawled by.

When Swim had finally composed herself a bit more, she spoke again. "What are…all of you doing?"

The people in question each picked a different corner of the train to evasively stare at.

"I…" She snuffled again, raising a sleeve up to her cheek to brush a stray tear away. "I mean…I know that I'm just…a lowly C-Class hero…" She nodded softly, feeling another wave of depression tighten against her chest in remembrance of her hopeless position. "I'll probably never make it from here. I'll never be like one of you… I'll never be…someone that other people can look up to; the way I look up to you… But you know…I was fine with that. Because even though I'm not special…I could still support the people who are. Cheering you guys on from behind the curtain gave me more satisfaction than I ever found by trying to do even a tiny bit…of what you guys do all the time."

She paused to clench her hands into tight fists for a moment before releasing them. She lowered her eyes to stare down at her feet, slowly shaking her head in sorrow.

"That's why…I don't understand it." The heroes she was speaking to each reluctantly turned to face her again. Instead of seeing tears, they saw that she had managed to fortify her face into a determined, but disappointed expression. "I just don't understand…how all of you have so much power… _so much_ potential to inspire new heroes like me…and instead…I have to watch you use it to rip into each other! Do you know how much it hurts me to see that? Do you know how it feels to see the people I look up to treat each other as badly as the monsters they pledged to protect us from?!"

She turned to glance over at the hero closest to her, doing her best to offer up a smile in spite of how much she was clearly hurting.

"Wild Horn…you're so busy that you probably don't even remember this…but when A-City was attacked by the invaders, you saved a very dear friend of mine who was working in a collapsing mine you evacuated. Without your leadership and inspiration, I would probably be attending a funeral right around now. I thank God every day for brave men like you."

The horn-helmed hero let out a humbled sigh.

She turned to the next man in view.

"Flashy Flash…my neighborhood suffered from a horrible infestation of Gator Men almost a year ago. If you hadn't been there to chase them back to the sewers and kill their alpha, all my friends and family would've become homeless."

Flash slightly narrowed his eyes, leaving the rest of his impassive face unchanged.

She nervously pressed her pointer fingers together again. "I-I know you probably think of girls like me as pests…but in my college sorority, we gather every weekend and talk about boys. That almost always included at least one hero. Most of my friends like Sweet Mask, of course…but even though they think you look too feminine…I always thought you were way cooler! Like a prince out of a fairytale."

His face softened into almost a warm smile at her words before immediately collapsing when he digested the whole message. "Wait _what?_ …They think I look _what?_ "

Feeling no desire to jump into specifics, Swim hurried on, this time looking at the only cyborg in the group.

"I know more than most people that you get a lot of fans too, Genos. Not just because I happen to be one of them, but also because without a shred of doubt, your absolute _biggest_ fan is my own little sister. How else to say…I can't compete with her. She's totally obsessed with you. And she has better reason for it than a lot of other girls do: you saved her life. I'm certain you do that kind of thing for people pretty often, but this time was different. This time…you nearly…died…"

The young woman almost seemed to choke on the word of lasting finality.

"And I honestly hope that she'll get the chance to know you better someday, because I've never seen a person sacrifice themselves the way you did for someone they've never even met. You'll be that girl's hero forever – my entire _family's_ hero forever… And one day…one day I hope you'll understand exactly what that means."

Genos raised his eyebrows in curiosity, doing his best to recall from memory exactly which girl it could have been that he saved. He saved a lot of people, true, but that was usually the last he heard of them. He pondered what might have made this particular victim's circumstances so different that he still persisted in her thoughts.

"And Miss Fubuki…"

The woman being spoken to crossed her arms intently, waiting to hear what she had to say.

"I may not know the exact story behind the Blizzard Group… From what Flashy Flash mentioned, there seems to be quite a lot I don't know in fact…"

"Tch…" Fubuki scoffed lightly, passively glaring off to the side at some invisible object.

"But…that's okay." Swim smiled harmlessly at her, hoping that her idol would catch glimpse of it from out of some corner of her eye. "It's okay that I don't know a lot about you. Because…while I look up to all of you guys as strong heroes…you're the one who first inspired me to become a hero myself."

Upon catching this detail, the esper forced herself to turn her head back to look at her.

"Your confidence…your elegance…your beauty…you're the ideal reflection I hope to see in my mirror someday. But somehow, I could never find it in myself to be jealous of you. Even if I tried to be your rival, I could never win as many hearts as you have. You're still so young, but you've worked so hard that you already have an entire group of people who adore you as their leader. Not just anyone can do something that amazing – it was you. You have your life all together in front of you…don't you see?"

Fubuki stared at her for a moment with a face of stone before giving her a sad smile. "I have it all together…" She repeated to herself bitterly. "Is that what you think?"

Swim blinked at her with a weak, clueless stare. "What?"

The esper shook her head dismissively. "No… Nothing."

The younger girl gave her a reluctant nod before resuming her point.

"The real reason I'm saying all this is because my admiration for all of you…it isn't the fake or shallow craze you all seem to think it is. Whether you've saved someone close to me or inspired me to change my life just by how you live yours…all of you have had a hand in my development as a hero. But…"

Her voice began cracking again as the grief revisited her with greater force.

"But when I'm forced to watch all my heroes – all these great people in front of me _hate_ each other…it's like…" She took a deep breath and exhaled in an attempt to bear her soul. "It's like…forcing pieces of me to hate myself!" She rubbed her eyes to staunch the hot rush of water escaping them. "I know I'm just one fan…and it kills me to say this…but if seeing heroes fight like this is what it means to be one…then…then maybe it really is time for me to walk away. Because…I believe in good heroes… and because...!" She tried to swallow the lump in her throat. _"…I don't want my outlook on that to change!"_

While Swim froze with despondence where she stood off from the rest of the group, the other four remained as inanimate as statues. For the longest moment, it stayed that way between them. No one seemed to know what to say, or how to comfort her.

What eventually happened next surprised everyone.

Flash took his first few tentative steps towards the dejected girl. After spending such a long time in silent stillness, the movement gave her a jolt, and her shoulders trembled nervously at his approach. She made a hasty effort to clean up the mess on her face as the taller man drew closer, having no clue how he would react to her doleful outburst.

He stopped directly in front of her, narrowing his fatal eyes as they shrewdly examined her face for the first time.

The sudden act of him leaning down caused her to flinch in fear, as if reflexively preparing for him to strike her. However, when she opened her eyes, she saw that he had kneeled over to pick up the paper she was using to take their autographs, which had apparently fallen from her hands during the commotion.

As he rose back up to meet her with a stoic face, she mutely watched as he clicked the pen and began to scrawl something on the small page. When his fingers stopped moving, he turned to focus on her again.

"Hold out your hand, girl." He commanded with a neutral voice.

The order didn't need much elaboration on her part – Swim did as she was told. In fact, she did better.

Raising two shaky hands out in front of her, she gave him the same look as a rabbit would give a fox that had cornered it – droopy ears and watery eyes included.

He surprised her with tenderness by softly taking the petite hands into a single gloved one of his own, using his other to plant the paper in her palms.

He took a step back to give her some space as she looked down at what was written.

Her eyes slowly widened with disbelief.

In an immaculate, almost runic form of cursive was a small message polished beneath the other signatures of varying styles.

 _ **To a fan and fellow hero that doesn't come along every day.**_

 _ **~Flash**_

Swim looked back over at him, her mouth slightly open in speechlessness. She wasn't even certain that her mortal eyes were worthy to admire the holy art of this resplendent penmanship.

"I don't just do these sorts of things upon any random request." He informed her. "Do try your best not to lose it."

She slowly nodded her head, eyes glistening with wonder at the unexpected act of kindness.

"I am a realist…so I always found being compared to a fairytale prince to be rather droll." He admitted to her with a straight face. "But since I doubt that will stop you from doing it…" He regally draped his cape out to the side with one hand, crossing the other over his chest as he lowered his head into an elegant bow that could only be inherited by royalty. "It was unbecoming of me to speak with such unprincely manners in front of someone who holds me in high esteem. I will try to be more mindful of my conduct in the future. So, for this unsightly act, I hope this is enough to gain your pardon."

Hidden behind him, a certain esper's eyes were shooting unfriendly daggers at the back of his head. _'I'm the one you disrespected…'_ She thought bitterly. _'Where's_ _ **my**_ _apology, you prissy Legolas bastard…'_

"A-ah…!" Swim raised her hands defensively in protest to Flash's gesture. "N-No! It's fine! Please, you shouldn't be bowing towards someone like me…!"

"Aren't you worth it?" Another voice that sounded metallic called over to her. She watched Wild Horn advance to meet her, stopping right next to his partner. "Please don't cry…" He added on, clasping one of her hands firm but gentle in both of his. "Nothing makes this old girder jock feel worse than seeing such a sweet girl waste precious tears like this. I'm sorry for having my part in it too. If it'd help…I'd be honored if you'd accept my autograph too."

She gave him a briefly curious look before shutting her eyes to accompany the radiant smile that swept over her mouth. "Yeah…please!"

He nodded, softly pulling the paper from her to fill the vacancy beneath his senior partner's handiwork. "I hope you give your friend I saved my best. I've worked in a mine before too, and let me just say that even when you take away the savage aliens, the working conditions _still_ suck the big lemon…"

Before she could respond, she heard another pair of footsteps join the circle. She turned to see that it was Genos who appeared next to her to regard her with a look. His stare was cold – as it almost always was – yet somehow it also seemed to contain traces of respect.

"Sadness is an emotion commonly associated with humans." He remarked. "I apologize that it must be so unpleasant. However, it is unnecessary to elicit such feelings for such reasons as this. You must carefully consider whether you truly want to remain a hero, because if you do, there will undoubtedly be more misgivings. Ones not only concerning us, but many of your other peers as well."

Swim gave him an uneasy look, but took his advice with a reluctant nod.

"Having said that…" He continued, and she braced herself for more criticism. Unexpectedly, he gave her a smile instead. "You have a lot of heart. I think my master would approve of you. And if my master approves of you…then I approve of you. Perhaps you should meet him some day."

"Th-thank you!" She bowed towards him. "I would love to! He must be a great man to mentor someone like you, Demon Cyborg."

In the midst of being humbled by their consecutive praises, Swim was almost unaware of the shadow that had swept over her shorter stature. Looking over her shoulder, she gave a small startled jump when she saw Fubuki standing close to her.

The esper had her arms neatly folded over her chest. "At least Genos got _one_ thing right…" the regal woman stated. "In the ranks of the Association, you can and absolutely _will_ encounter more conflicts like this. Some of them will involve us again. They might involve your friends. They might even involve _you_."

Swim swallowed with a nervous gulp as she listened to the woman lecturing her.

"Honestly! What did you think being a hero meant? That you were never allowed to have disagreements? That we were all going to exist harmoniously in some hivemind of righteous justice? Even friends fight with each other. And that isn't always necessarily a bad thing. You'll never know the depths of your connection with someone else until you venture out and test those waters. You've mentioned before that you were thinking to quit being a hero. Well if you want to stay, you'll eventually need to adapt like one. Because whining won't fix every problem you run into."

The small C-Class lamb looked to the male heroes surrounding her front. All of them nodded at her, affirming their agreement with the Blizzard boss.

"I…I guess you're right." Swim yielded to her point.

It was almost uncanny how her superiors seemed to complement one another's approach with her, even if it wasn't exactly collaborated. Wild Horn – and even Flashy Flash of all people – softened her up with kindness, which worked in tandem to make the pragmatism of Genos and Fubuki's advice seem less harsh. Simply put, they had collectively struck a balance between encouragement and criticism – the work of only the finest teachers.

"Sorry for making such a scene. I guess I'm a little sensitive…Haha." Swim apologized, rubbing her head meekly. "Even if I were to quit my job as a professional hero…I'll probably still bump into conflicts wherever I end up instead. It's a sad reality to face…but I guess life is full of them, huh?"

"But make no mistake," Wild Horn heeded, "all of us are comrades. Come hell or highwater, we're united by purpose to protect the innocent, and hopefully this strange new pairing policy will help strengthen that purpose. But, well…if you wanna leave, I won't pretend not to understand why…" The bipedal bull shrugged his broad shoulders. "…For what it's worth, I hope you do choose to stay, though. Don't get me wrong; the benefits to this line of work can really blow for lower classes…but like my old man used to say: 'Never resent humble beginnings.' I started off working the railroad, and look where I am now."

"So…" Flashy Flash adjoined. "What's your decision? Trust your conscience before making it. We're all here to witness your resolve – whichever direction that points to."

Swim swept an uncomfortable gaze over them, realizing that the four champions had formed a box around her – each one occupying a corner of it. It's not like she thought they were trying to intimidate her, or pressure her into giving a definite answer. Rather, she had never been more humbled in her young life than to realize that these heavy-hitters were taking time out of their day to witness a decision that was – let's be honest – trivial to their own affairs. She knew that ultimately no one could nor would make this choice for her; this wasn't something any hero could protect her from. And she acknowledged that standing in the light of all her role models made this a very important day to decide her future.

It had to be now. She had all week to think about the future, and now it was clear that the future had lost its patience.

"I…" She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly before opening them back up with decided confidence. "I want to do it. I want to continue trying out this hero business."

The senior heroes cross-examined her words, along with the face she wore when she said them. Deciding in silent unison that her resolve was in earnest, they each gave her a sign of support, each coming in four unique forms.

"I think…" Swim breathed in deep again, as if trying to get something off her chest. "I think I wanna try by starting right now."

The others watched her turn serious as she slipped her small backpack off her shoulder and opened it. From out of it, she pulled a tight roll of paper and proceeded to unfurl it in front of them.

"I mentioned to Miss Fubuki that I took today's train to go see the ocean and clear my head." She looked up at the esper to give her an apologetic grin. "Aaaah but I'm afraid that was only…half true."

Fubuki crossed her arms, listening intently for this 'other' half of the truth.

"You see…I was hoping not to trouble the Association by involving its heroes in a personal family matter…but after today…I think it might be time to swallow my shame and ask for your help too."

Flashy Flash furrowed his eyebrows sternly. "What's this about?"

Swim avoided his wary eyes, timidly twisting the bottom flap of her jacket between her hands. "It's…my sister. She's been missing for about a week now…"

Upon hearing this, the others gave her a cautious look.

"Your sister?" Genos echoed with concern.

"Mm." She nodded her head, looking dismal. "Admittedly, I wasn't too worried at first. I keep a close-knit neighborhood watch with other C-listers, and every so often, she liked to run off and disappear for half a day or so." Swim paused for a moment to try massaging the stress out of her temples. "I…I just assumed that she was playing with her school friends since they all live around the same area."

"Did you file a missing person's report to the police?" Wild Horn asked.

"Yes. After hours of frantic searching, that seemed the next sensible thing to do."

"It was." The armored hero confirmed. "Good call."

"But now…" The girl started shaking again. "I mean…she's never been away from home this long before. My parents are a mess. We thought about hiring a private detective to help investigate her disappearance…but we don't have that much money. So on top of searching for hours every day with my neighborhood watch community, all I really have to rely on are the authorities… But since there's a lot of crime in my area, they already have their hands full with other cases." She fearfully bit down on her lip. "I just…I feel so…helpless."

"So why were you also saying you're taking the train?" Fubuki asked.

"Oh!" Realizing she forgot to fully explain herself, Swim's eyes fluttered alive. "Sorry. It was to put these up." Swim stretched out one of the posters and held it up for them to see. Presumably, the girl hanging in the large picture was the lost sister. Below the photo was the word _**"**_ _ **MISSING**_ _ **"**_ drenched in deep red font, along with details about the girl's height, weight, etcetera.

She indeed looked like a younger version of Swim, smiling sweetly at them through the image. She even had the same short brown hairstyle. Appearing roughly ten years of age, she wore a sleeveless top with red and white stripes. Since the photograph only covered her appearance from the waist up, there wasn't a whole lot more to go on.

There was, however, _one_ particular detail that caught Genos's attention almost right away.

His black and gold eyes shot open in alarm, and he snatched the poster from her hands to get a closer look at what he saw.

"Th-This is…!"

Just then, a ringtone went off, disrupting all thoughts on his new discovery. The cyborg pulled the beeping flip phone out from his pocket and answered the call.

"Genos here." After watching him listen to the chatter on the other end for a few seconds, the other association members saw his features contort with fear. "What?! Are you certain?! Which exact train?"

At the mention of a train, concern rose among the rest of the hero circle.

"What?" Wild Horn asked him. "What's going on?"

Genos ignored him and continued listening to what the voice was telling him; his expression growing more and more grave by the second. "Outbound for City Z…arrival time 2:22pm…" He hung his mouth open in shock. _"Ours?!"_

"For God's sake Genos, tell us what's going on!" Fubuki demanded in a raised voice, trying to hide her own nerves.

Genos made the next few seconds _really_ last as he stood paralyzed by the information he was still processing. But he did eventually utter one word.

It wasn't a big word.

Or a complicated word.

But it held enough weight to make them all empathize with his panic the instant it left his mouth.

"Bomb…"

Everyone's ears perked up.

Swim felt a sharp stab to the heart, replaced shortly after by a cold, harrowing chill. "Did…did you just say…"

Before she could even repeat the word, Genos spun around and shouted out to the rest of the passengers.

"Everyone, get out now! There's a— _MMPH!_ "

Before the warning could take flight, Flash shot straight over and slammed a hand over his mouth to silence him. "What the hell do you think you're doing?! Do you have a _malfunction?_ " He hissed. "We're soaring at almost 200 miles per hour!"

"He's right." Wild Horn added. "The train is coasting at deadly speeds. These people have nowhere to run." Despite the composure of his words, he was thankful that his face was concealed by armor so that everyone else didn't have to see how shaken he was. "The worst possible thing to do right now is rattle the monkey cage and cause panic. Y'all heard what that Sekingar dude said about making people panic…"

Still muffled by Flashy Flash's hand, Genos regarded them both with a wide-eyed stare before his face softened in understanding. When Flash was certain that the cyborg wouldn't shout again, he safely removed his grip.

"Wh-what do we do?!" Swim beseeched, using every ounce of her restraint not to pace about frantically.

Genos carefully surveyed the entire compartment of the train before holding the cellphone back up to his ear to speak into the transmitting end. "Y-Yes. I am still here." He pulled away from the phone briefly to inform the others, "Yamamoto-san, from the Association Staff. He is providing me with the details as they come in. I will remain in contact with him. In the meantime, I highly advise that you plan our next course of action."

As he returned to the phone call, the rest of the heroes looked at each other intensely.

"If there really is a bomb here…" Flashy Flash started, "then the first natural step would be to look for it."

As the ninja turned to speed away, his partner stopped him by grabbing hold of his arm. "Wait." Wild Horn warned.

Flash stared back at him in annoyance. "What is it? We don't have time for this."

"Please trust me. Just…just let me think for a moment. At least before taking any action on your own."

Flash narrowed his eyes in umbrage at being stopped by a B-Class hero. But something mysterious – perhaps a natural instinct or trained intuition – prompted him to humor his underclassman. "Well make it fast then – I am not a patient man, and there are more lives hanging in the balance than just yours."

Wild Horn let go of his arm and turned to look at the girls. "Hmmm… We've been on this ride for almost an hour, and nothing's happened yet. I'm starting to assume that the main target isn't the passengers on this train."

"That's true." Fubuki agreed. "If the bomber really wanted us dead, then he probably could've set the bomb to explode either before or shortly after the train's departure. It wouldn't make sense to wait this long… Unless…"

"Unless…" Flash shadowed her word. "The real target is Z-City Station – the circuit's final destination.

"And the scheduled arrival time for this transport is 2:22." Swim put a ponderous finger to her chin. "But that means…" She let out a gasp with renewed panic. "…we only have about twenty more minutes!"

As if the possibility of death was just now dawning on them, they all unanimously snapped back to face the armored bull.

"You've had enough time to think." Flash incited. "Do something, or I will."

"Okay!" Wild Horn eagerly clapped his hands together. Taking advantage of the obscurity from his helmet, he secretly glanced around for what he was looking for. He found it – clear across the long hall on the other side of the compartment. "Flash." He whispered over to his partner. "Pretend that you're just talking to me."

"I _am_ talking to you."

"Yeah, but that's not what I—ugh," he twisted his horns in distress, "I mean pretend not to notice, but do you see the surveillance cameras? There's one above each exit door on both ends of this junction."

"I see them." He confirmed. "So what?"

"I want you to take 'em out." His partner replied. "You need to be quick. There won't be a point to this if you get caught on feed."

" _I_ need to be _quick?_ " The S-Class hero produced a rare smirk. "Who do you think you're talking to?"

Before anyone could think to respond, Flash's entire body seemed to blink entirely out of existence for less than a second before reappearing in the exact same place. It happened so fast and sudden that none of the other heroes were even sure if they trusted what their eyes had seen.

"Done." The speedster stated calmly with closed eyes, smacking his hands together to dust off some chalk. "Next."

The others looked to both sides of the compartment, amazed that even though they hadn't heard a single sound, they saw that the two surveillance cameras guarding the long section had been completely pulverized. Flash had sprinted the length of their train segment – twice – in about the same time it took a person to sneeze.

"Kudos!" Wild Horn complimented him. "Nice to see your reputation precedes, my fleet-footed friend."

"But uhh…Wild Horn?" Fubuki asked with some concern for the moral integrity of her temporary allies. "Why did you ask Flashy Flash to vandalize public property?"

"A precaution." The horned man answered. "We don't know much other than that there's a bomb on this train. But there's also a distinct possibility that the person responsible for planting it might've also hacked the surveillance and be watching us. I can't say I know for sure if it's true…but if he happens to have a manual trigger, and he sees heroes like us trying to interfere…" He fully faced towards her to emphasize the danger: "…He could detonate the bomb prematurely."

Fubuki and Swim both swallowed hard in revelation of that horrid ending.

"But now that Flash took care of the cameras undetected," Horn's voice turned slightly upbeat, "the possibility for that outcome has drastically decreased…I think."

Fubuki gave him an unamused look. "You know…ending speculations with 'I think' doesn't instill a lot of faith in my heart."

At this moment, Genos rushed back to the group, having hung up on his call. "Z-Station!" He announced hurriedly, "The bomber's target is Z-City Station."

"Yeah, we kinda gathered that already, thanks." Fubuki replied wearily.

"They have IDed the suspect." The cyborg mentioned. "He is not on this train. I have run its length front and back, and I could not find anyone that matches his description."

"Well, I guess it's nice to know that we're not dealing with a suicide bomber…right guys?" Swim tried for optimism.

"Now that we know we won't be blown up on a whim, we can concentrate on finding the device." Wild Horn took another moment to think before further adding, "But because we don't know if we will in time, our other goal should be to stop this train."

"I tried all emergency brakes." Genos explained. "They have all been sabotaged. I suspect that it was the terrorist's doing."

Flash clenched his fists so tightly that everyone heard his knuckles pop from the pressure. "When I catch up to that coward…" he seethed through his teeth, "…I'm giving him a free penectomy."

The other heroes shuddered at the inference of his chilling threat.

"There'll…be time for that later." Horn assured him, albeit nervously. "But survival comes first. Everyone needs to search for anything that looks out of place. A loose panel, a locked door – something big enough to wipe out a train station can't be difficult to find!"

"You seem to have a lot of confidence ordering us around." Fubuki pointed out, both impressed and annoyed at the natural leadership skills he was displaying. As a leader herself, being controlled like a chess piece wasn't exactly something she was used to – or wanted to be.

"Well," Wild Horn replied bluntly, "once you've rolled around with a construction crew for three-plus years, you start to realize how much smarter people think you are when you don't waffle your words."

"Flash? Genos?" She called over to the two alpha males with them. "You're both in S-Class. Are you fine with just doing what he tells you?"

The two young men traded looks before Flash spoke up for them both. "If we can do it, can't you?"

Fubuki grimaced, but submitted with one last defiant shrug. "Ugh…fine."

"Still…" Swim pointed out. "It might be hard searching that thoroughly without making other people suspicious…"

"If anyone asks, "Fubuki advised perfunctorily, "improvise. Tell them your chihuahua dog broke off its leash and you need to find her before she craps in someone's breadbasket." Swim nodded with acceptance.

"Alright then, ladies and germs…" Wild Horn declared as they turned to go, looking like a paladin party leader at the head of the group. "…All hands on deck!"

They scattered to different corners of the train, feeling around every nook and cranny of every spare room and juncture. A few more minutes crept by, prompting the heroes to grow increasingly erratic in their search. They felt like mice scurrying dizzily through a maze, hitting their heads at every dead-end corner.

At the speed he was going, Flashy Flash might as well have been invisible. But if he slowed himself enough to let people see him, everyone would have noticed him bouncing off practically every possible surface in the narrow space.

Fubuki was glowing with a light blue, having activated her powers to heighten her senses of awareness as she scanned the area like a human metal detector.

Genos was busy on all fours looking under passenger seats, and when he had the misfortune of stumbling upon the chair where a middle-aged lady wearing a skirt was sitting, he received a scream and subsequent slap to the face for assumedly (understandably) sneaking a peak under her umbrella. Being struck didn't hurt him, but Genos nevertheless took it as a sign that there were no explosives to be found up the confines of the aging woman.

After some valuable minutes had been spent, Swim suddenly called out to them. "Guys! Over here!"

Everyone stopped what they were doing and made their way towards her.

"What is it?" Fubuki asked.

"The bathroom." Swim pointed.

"Can't you just hold it in?" Flash petitioned. "This is kind of important."

"EHH? N-No, that's not what I meant…!" She stammered. "The door says 'occupied.' But it's been saying that since we started searching. So I knocked on the door, and no one's answering…"

Everyone's eyes shot open in realization.

"Move." Flash commanded.

Not a second after the girl took two steps to the side, a blurry mess of motions swept over the door, and it gently collapsed into hundreds of perfectly uniform square pieces.

After the door had finished crumbling, everyone looked inside the small bathroom and uttered two key words in perfect unison.

" _Holy shit."_

Inside the pocketed room was a great mountain of wires, timers, buttons, and duct tape all crudely weaved together into a franken-mass big enough to take up every inch of the available space.

"Okay, ummm…" Wild Horn hastened to lean forward and examine the mega device. "Let me just…take some time to wrap my head around this."

"You're going to try to disarm it?" Fubuki asked him. "Do you even know what you're doing?"

"Well, err…sort of?" The suit of armor scratched his head. "I was part of a demolition project once…" He turned back to face the bomb, grimly emphasizing under his breath, "…once."

"How similar does this explosive appear to the one you used back then?" Genos inquired.

"Well, see, that's the tricky thing about bombs meant for terrorism…" Horn explained morbidly. "They aren't _made_ to be disarmed. And judging by how this looks, I doubt our criminal friend lent us the courtesy of an easy picking."

"Can we just throw the bomb off the train?" Fubuki asked, glowing sharply as though she was already preparing to do so.

"No! STOP!" Wild Horn held an arm out at her. "Do not. Move. This device."

The blue energy around the esper slowly dissipated as she reluctantly desisted.

"What about destroying it?" Genos asked. "Flash and I are both capable of obliterating a target instantaneously."

"It is absolutely _not_ a good idea to use brute force as a first resort." Wild Horn advised. "We don't know how sensitive this bomb is to motion. And based on its bold size and where the bomber left it, it's almost as if he's daring us to try attacking it."

"What do you propose then?" Flash asked.

"Listen, guys," Wild Horn began, "ordinarily in a situation like this, the _single smartest_ thing to do is haul as much ass away from this death machine as we can. But seeing as that's not an available option…" He breathed a deep sigh at the suggestion he was about to make. "…we're gonna have to try defusing it."

"Defuse _that?_ " Fubuki motioned wildly towards the clusterfuck of technology. "Look at that beast! I can't even tell where it starts and where it ends."

"I won't make you do it, missy," Wild Horn assured her. "Genos, do you happen to have any experience with disarming bombs?"

"Is blowing up bombs considered disarming them?" The cyborg asked in earnest.

The horned hero slapped a hand over his shielded face. He was afraid of that answer. The Demon Cyborg might as well have just asked him if mayonnaise was an instrument.

"Never mind… Guess it'll have to be me. How long before the train arrives?"

The cyborg's golden pupil flashed into a circular time dial. "Eleven minutes, twenty-three seconds."

"Okay!" Wild Horn turned back to the massive device and exhaled coolly. "I know I can do this. The bomb looks big, but that was probably just done to intimidate us with showy details…" He sounded like he was trying to convince himself as much as the others. "The mechanism only needs a small handful of things to work. Soon as I find where all the blast caps are kept, I should be able to trace the circuit up to where the battery juices them."

"Do you need us to do anything?" Flash asked with concern.

"For now, just sit tight." His partner replied, leaning cautiously over the weapon. Feeling optimistic, he added "I think…I think I'm already starting to get a feel for what this guy was doing! This might actually end up being a one-man job so long as nothing unexpected happe—"

"What the hell is _that?!_ " A brand-new voice shouted from behind them.

They turned to see a panicked man in a grey business suit peering straight past them at the gigantic contraption that Wild Horn was kneeling over. Before the occupied heroes could even get past their surprise at how the passenger managed to sneak up on them, he proceeded to cry,

"IS THAT A **BOMB?!** "

They all blinked at him.

… _Fuck._

Terrified, the man turned tail to run wildly down the aisle, repeatedly shouting "BOMB! THERE'S A BOMB!" He made it nine or ten feet before Genos tackled him from behind, knocking them both into a tall stack of boxes which collapsed to the floor.

Genos had managed to reliably subdue the civilian beneath him, but when he looked up and saw the faces of the other passengers rising from their seats, he knew it was too late.

"Did…he just say bomb?" A young woman asked with a petrified look.

"That's what I thought I heard…" Another person answered. More voices joined in.

"That…can't be true…!"

"Is there really a bomb here…? Are we all going to die?!"

The audible words of frightened travelers began to louden and blend together into a singular cacophony of unintelligible shouts.

The heroes, who up to now had been so successful with their discretion, had plunged headlong into a new depth of despair. They stood watching speechlessly as everyone flooded the center space of the compartment in hurried panic.

Genos sat dazed on the floor next to the boxes that had just collapsed, and when he turned to get a good look at them, his face fell mortified as he recognized what they were.

"No… This cannot be…"

The numerous sounds of snips, snaps, clicks, and clatters rang in his ears with dooming familiarity. He shot to his feet and watched in terror as a writhing tidal wave of claws, spidery legs, and hard shells rose up from the breached confines of their imprisonment.

"The crabs…"

He snapped his head back to shout in anguish at his colleagues:

" _THE CRABS HAVE ESCAPED!"_

As if the horrified mob of passengers behind him couldn't get any louder, the disjointed sight of abundant ocean life whipped them into a hysteric frenzy. The sea-salted devils must have caught delicious scent of their fear, because they practically exploded off of each other; skittering, leaping, and snapping into everyone they could hit. Adding to the chaos of the crustacean invasion, people were pushing, shoving, elbowing, clawing, and trampling each other as they rushed to find an escape that would continue to elude them.

Sandwiched between the ticking of a devastating bomb on one side and Neptune's Revenge on the other, Wild Horn knew he couldn't work in these conditions.

"Seriously?!" He cried in disbelief. "Who the shit brought live crabs aboard this engine?!"

"Take a guess." Fubuki jerked a thumb out towards a certain cyborg who was hopelessly attempting to scoop them up in his arms and shove them back into their boxes.

"Perfect." Horn muttered before turning back to what he was doing. "It'll be a major problem if the muddle works its way over here and rolls into me while I tamper with this charge. Flash! Fubuki! And…sorry little miss, I didn't catch your name?"

"S-Swim…"

"Swim." He repeated, as if committing it to memory. "You mustn't be afraid. Whatever happens, we're all right here with you. You aren't alone."

She bit down on her lip, trying to muster up strength in front of her armored coach.

"Now Swim," he continued, "I need you to go with Uncle Flash and Aunt Fubuki to act as crowd control while I tickle this bomb."

The other two mentioned heroes crinkled their noses at the titles he had taken upon himself to bestow them.

"You're a hero, right?" He reminded her. "So can I count on you?"

She gave him a sharp nod. "Y-Yeah! I'll do my best!"

Without any sort of warning, she turned and dashed gallantly in the direction where Genos and the others were still struggling with their shell-spawned neighbors. Once she entered the twisted rave, she was almost immediately knocked over by the first wave of crabs, and it became abundantly clear that she had rushed in without any sort of calculated plan under her belt.

"Ridiculous…" Fubuki uttered through grinding teeth as she prepared to join the fun.

"Be nice, she's trying." Flash defended half-heartedly.

As the two followed her into the fray, Genos had since given up on the live recapture of his inconsolable ingredients. Holding his glowing palms out in front of him, he relied on automated targeting features to zap the buggers out of existence. When one of the beams missed its mark and ricocheted a few times, he quickly learned that that was a bad idea.

Flash narrowly dodged the refracted ray of energy, but it singed his cape on the rebound. "You idiot! Think about where you are!" He sneered as he jumped in to snatch Swim from the growing mound of crabs she was sinking into.

Fubuki scattered a bunch of them using her psionic potential, blasting several through windows at high speed. "Next time I board a train…" she proclaimed jadedly, "I'm stopping to make sure you guys aren't on it first."

"Likewise!" Flash returned before being set upon by a cluster of crabs that had somehow managed to make it all the way up to the ceiling before bearing down on him. The ninja threw himself over the smaller Swim, shielding her from the brunt of the impact. His thick cape managed to ward most of them off, but as in every life case, there came exceptions.

He winced as they sank through his clothing, scratching into his back with sharp protruding legs and deep-dug claws. "Dammit, cyborg!" He shouted over the chaos. "What fresh circle of Hell did you find these little bastards anyway!"

"We need a safe place to dispose of them!" Fubuki shouted back. "This isn't working!"

"What about the bathroom toilet?!" Genos suggested.

"You mean the one currently being blocked by the huge powder keg?!"

"Fl-Flash…!" Swim cried out in pain from underneath him. "They're pinching me…! It…It hurts!"

Flashy Flash's face contorted into severe displeasure as he struggled to push himself upward against the oppressive weight. "God…" He swiftly scooped her up into his arms and shot to his feet. _"…DAMMIT!"_

Before Swim could get her bearings, Flash continued carrying her bridal-style as he bounced everywhere at maddening velocity, lashing his tailwind in all directions to stave off stragglers. As much as he wanted to just whip out his sword and slice every one of the godless animals to ceviche, there were too many people turning and twisting in all manner of directions for him to risk in the retaliation.

Meanwhile, Wild Horn resumed careful tinkering with the machine, and in an effort to calm the nerves in his shaking hands, he had resorted to muttering a small, paraphrased nursery song.

"The Blast Bone's connected to the…Circuit Bone~" He carefully dissected a strip of duct tape that held several fuses in place. "…The Circuit Bone's connected to the Please-Don't-Blow-Me-Up—"

He continued tuning out the ensuing riot behind him, as well as Flash rushing back and forth past him multiple times while holding Swim as the two left a long trail of angry crabs in their wake.

"Four minutes remaining!" Genos called out. "This is taking far too long! Time for my next resort!"

"Eh?" Fubuki questioned. "What next resort?"

Without answering, Genos grabbed hold of the ceiling and hung off to kick the train's side door open with both feet. The door flew clean off its hinges, exposing everyone to the outside world.

"Wh-what are you doing?!" Fubuki shouted. "What if someone falls out?"

"I will attempt to stop the train from the front." He explained. "You do whatever you can from in here."

With that, he flew out and was gone. A moment later, the entire train rumbled violently, accompanied by a loud screech.

In reaction, Flashy Flash stopped sprinting, letting a dizzy, motion-sick Swim seep out of his arms. "What the hell… Did Demon Cyborg just wrap himself around the front hood of the engine?"

"Wild Horn?" She called over to the hero still crouched over the machine. "We could really use some good news…!"

"I've got it down to the wire…" He called back. "Literally. I just need to make sure I pull the right plug."

"Go help him." Fubuki instructed Flash as she proceeded to walk away.

"And where are you going?" He asked.

The Blizzard of Hell stopped to glance down at Swim, who still had a few tiny crabs clinging to her jacket.

"To be a hero." The esper replied.

Seconds later, a blue glow surrounded one of the panicking pedestrians, and he began floating off the floor and out the exit Genos had created.

"Everyone remain calm." Fubuki declared. "I will help you all get off the train one-by-one." Without waiting for anyone's permission, she picked up the next passenger up with her powers and repeated the same strategy.

' _I see…'_ Flash thought to himself as he watched her work her (literal) magic. _'She's trying to minimize the loss of life by clearing the train. Falling out of it at this speed would be fatal for the passengers. But using her powers, she's able to nullify the kinetic energy while setting them down to avoid injuring them!'_ Despite himself, he let a grin escape his face as he continued to watch the Blizzard leader remain busy. _'Jigoku no Fubuki…you may yet prove useful after all.'_

When he watched the final passenger float out the exit door, he turned to walk past a still-shaken Swim and reappear beside his partner.

"We've run out of time." Flash announced. "Move aside. I'll do it."

"Wait…I've…almost…got it…" Wild Horn was struggling to untangle a bundle of thin multi-colored wires.

The S-Class hero exhaled sharply through his nose before pushing his way in and grabbing the entire collection of fuses in one hand.

Wild Horn flew into a panic when he saw what he was about to do. "Flash _NO—!_ "

Before anything else could be done, a bright wave of green enveloped all four heroes remaining on the train, and they were flung outside into the light of day.

* * *

Violently scraping his legs against the tracks, Genos clung to the front of the bullet train, ceaselessly bidding the transport to halt in its path. It didn't. If anything, it was accelerating. On top of tampering with the brakes and controls on the train, it appeared that the terrorist had also managed to somehow increase the speed limit.

' _Forty seconds left until we approach the station…'_ He grunted with exertion, watching the timer floating in his augmented eye. _'…I have to stop it before then!'_

Sensing someone far ahead of the train's course, Genos struggled to look over his shoulder, grunting in surprise when he saw the shape of a lone figure standing in the middle of the track. It was still too far away for him to see who it was though.

' _What is that idiot doing on the tracks?!'_ Genos desperately wondered. _'Do they have a death wish?! The train will flatten them!'_

In a last-ditch effort to stop the ride, he activated a huge thruster in his back which burned away his shirt to dust. Adding the force of his built-in engine seemed to pay off. The train began to crackle with static and decelerate.

Genos let loose a wide grin for his impending victory. "Yosh…!"

But his smile was short-lived when he caught sight of the green aura that had completely eclipsed the long vehicle he was hugging.

"Out of the way."

Just as he put together who the high-handed voice belonged to, he found himself shooting upwards hundreds of feet through the air.

The green glow intensified on the rushing vehicle, eventually snapping it free from its rails and pulling it by its nose upwards towards the sky. Before long, the whole train was swimming through clouds, each segment twisting violently into one another, eventually making the whole transport look like a crumpled wad of old homework.

When it was high enough out of harm's way, a great flash escaped out of it, followed by the resounding boom of a colossal explosion. Fire and debris prepared to plummet back down, only to be sucked up by some invisible vacuum, getting smaller and smaller until not even a plume of smoke remained.

The train was gone.

The heroes who had been pulled out of it had been running to catch up. Genos had finally come down after being catapulted, and when they found him stuck in a nearby tree, they knew they were close.

"What just happened?" Wild Horn called up to the cyborg easing his way out of the leafy canopy. "Where did our train go?!"

"For someone to be able to move such a large object…" Fubuki strained her eyes as she spotted something floating higher in the sky.

Haloed by the sun was a small silhouette that she recognized all too well.

She felt her stomach sink when her suspicions had been confirmed.

"…Onee-chan."

Despite the gravity of her impending situation, Fubuki was forced to bring her attention back down to earth as she spotted somebody running out to them from the tracks. Well…make that _two_ somebodies.

"That was soooo _cool!_ " The newcomer shouted, pulling another person behind him who seemed to be tied up in some sort of cable cord. "Glad I got here in time to see it."

Upon recognizing the voice, Genos's eyes came alive. "Saitama-sensei! You are here!"

Saitama came jogging around to the group of tired heroes. "Yo, man. What's up?" His smile faded when he saw the mess of twigs and leaves poking out of the cyborg's arms and hair. "Annnnd why do you look like you've been taming your wild side…and failing?"

Genos took a steady moment to process what he meant before brushing the all-natural forest crown off his head.

Flash, Fubuki, Horn, and Swim all stood off to the side, taking in the odd interaction between "Master" and "Disciple."

"That's his sensei?" Flash gave off a puzzled stare.

"Apparently…" Fubuki shrugged.

"But he looks soooo…" Wild Horn was searching for a polite way to put it. And not quite succeeding.

Swim, on the other hand, might have been the only person in the group who didn't mind a bit. For one thing, she knew she didn't look overly impressive to anyone either. But she also reflected back on what she told Genos about him aboard the train: _'He must be a great man to mentor someone like you, Demon Cyborg.'_

Honoring the old principle not to judge a book by its cover, Swim simply elected to smile softly at how content Genos looked just by being around him.

"Sensei, who do you have tied up behind you?" The disciple regarded the disgruntled man who was doing his best not to be noticed.

"Him?" Saitama blinked, as if suddenly remembering that he hadn't come by himself. "Just this jerk I bumped into while I was doing some shopping. He pulled a nasty prank on me, so I took him along to keep him from doing more."

"Wait a second…" Genos flashed his bionic eyes on the man, and the whir of technology accompanied the facial recognition scan he was currently screening him with.

Genos let out a huge gasp.

"The wanted bomber!"

The other heroes perked up and ran right over to get a closer look at the guy who had caused them so much trouble. The Serial Bomber shuddered under the combined pressure of revolted, and in some cases, murderous looks.

"No way…" Even Flash looked surprised. "The bomber has already been caught?" He did a doubletake with the terrorist's captor before gesturing "By _him?_ "

"Hey…" Saitama complained pettily while scratching an armpit.

The moment was shattered as a certain someone who had been watching them from a distance finally descended from the heavens. But as everyone who was present knew very well – it was no angel.

Tatsumaki had her arms folded as she lowered her float and swept her harsh gaze over the entire company.

When her eyes set upon Saitama, she scowled. And when they set upon a certain sister who was actively avoiding her look, the scowl deepened.

Deciding to wait on such matters for a bit longer, she introduced herself to the discussion in the same charming fashion she always did – with a nice raw criticism.

"Two S-Class heroes on the scene, and this was the best you all could do?" She stuck her nose up in acrimonious judgement. "Puuuh- _thetic._ "

Flashy Flash wasn't about to take that sitting down.

"Ohh… My sincerest apologies!" The ninja dipped his head in an exaggerated bow. "How sloppy it was of us to forget that we had _**mind powers.**_ "

The green-headed esper brushed the sarcasm off with a flippant shrug. "Hmph!"

"And you threw me again." Genos added with an annoyed glare.

Tatsumaki spared him an indifferent look, spotting all the leafy green and woody brown fragments of nature that disheveled his appearance.

"Huh. Oh yeah, look at that, guess I did… Well Happy Monday, tree-fucker."

The cyborg growled loudly at her impudent response.

Her attention left the two slighted men and fell on Fubuki.

"Jeez…" Her glare almost seemed to soften with concern as she addressed her younger sister. "Why didn't you just run away?"

Fubuki turned to briefly lock eyes with her sibling before throwing her head back to the side to glare away again. "This had nothing to do with you though." She murmured back.

"Ooooo _OOOOOO_ oooo…" Flashy Flash, Wild Horn – and yes, Saitama too – all let out the united vowel noise in reaction to Fubuki essentially telling off her older powerhouse of a sister.

Neither of the espers appreciated it – for two separate reasons.

Tatsumaki's went without saying, but for Fubuki, they may as well have painted a big bullseye on her ass and given the other woman a nuclear warhead to drop on it.

Rather than burst out at them with indignant demands to shut up like everyone expected her to, Tatsumaki's face remained unchanged for a moment as she seemed to calmly assess the situation. For Fubuki, the uncharacteristic silence of her older sis was unsettling, to say the least.

Suddenly, Tatsumaki closed her eyes, and her face broke into a smile.

It didn't appear to be sinister, or even mischievous.

It was just this sweet, bright, charming, lovable smile that almost everyone witnessing had no idea that her bone structure was even capable of producing.

That same smile invoked an agonizing chill throughout Fubuki.

It chilled her skin.

It chilled her blood.

It chilled her bones.

It chilled her soul.

Because out of every person standing there with her in front of this delusive little monster – only she fully understood what that sweet smile truly represented.

"Fubuki-nee," Tatsumaki called out her name in a sickeningly gentle voice. "My big cute little sister…"

' _Shit.'_ Fubuki thought, biting down hard on her lip as droplets of cold sweat started to form on her face. She thought about making a break for it, but she'd have better luck outrunning the long shadow of death. As it was, it took every ounce of her concentration just to keep herself from visibly shaking.

"Could we find a nice quiet spot together? Just the two of us?" Tatsumaki pleaded clemently before adding with an innocent pout, "I just wanna talk a little, that's all~"

At this point, Fubuki's heart was practically running loops all along her ribcage like a motorcycle in a circus globe. Everyone else was watching to see how she would answer the request, so she needed to pick her words with _excruciating_ care.

"Th-That's nice…" She had to fight just to get her voice not to croak. "But I'm a little busy at the moment, so…"

Tatsumaki's close-eyed smile didn't change. But a huge, angry vein visibly cropped up on her cheek. _"…Come again?"_ The honey in her voice had been replaced with vinegar.

"So…" Fubuki put a fist to her mouth to feign coughing, "m-maybe a little bit later we could—"

Her excuse had gotten no further before she found herself wrapped around a tight-fitting green bubble. Her feet had left the ground, suspended in the air with the rest of her body by a firm, invisible force.

Fubuki looked out at her sister in terror. All traces of 'Sweet' Tatsumaki had been wiped clean and replaced by the savage countenance of an unholy demon.

"Oh, you wanna do this _your_ way?" The witch seethed through wide, merciless eyes and gritted teeth. "Okay then, I'm flexible – let's have this _**your**_ way."

Everyone watched in awe as the tiny creature proceeded to pluck a helpless Fubuki away from them with an outstretched hand and drag her next to her own floating space.

"Wait a sec," Saitama called up to the smaller esper, "what exactly are you planning to do with her, Tattoo Monkey?"

The girl snapped her head back down to pierce him with a hard glare. "You know good and goddamn well that is _not_ my name! Don't move from that spot. I'll handle _you_ in a moment…" She turned her head over to where she had her sister giftwrapped in psychic energy. "…But family first."

Fubuki swallowed hopelessly as the two continued to rise higher into the stratosphere, leaving the rest of the group alone.

"Miss…" Swim sank to her knees in paralyzing fear. "Miss Fubuki…"

Flashy Flash watched their two shapes shrink into the sky before giving his head a dismissive shake. The less he knew about the situation for those two, the better.

"Well, you guys do what you want. But I'm leaving before that crazy bitch comes back." The speedster decided.

"Miss Blizz ain't that crazy…" Wild Horn defended.

"No, the _other_ crazy bitch." His partner clarified in annoyance.

Flash turned to approach Saitama and Genos, who still had the botched terrorist sitting next to them. He stopped in front of the bald hero and gave him a thorough inspection. At first glance, he didn't catch anything spectacular about him. But there was something…something that felt off about this strange somebody from Class B. The swordsman could tell that he was different somehow…but he couldn't decide if that difference made him stronger, or just weird. For the time being though, he might be worth keeping an open eye on.

"Did I hear the cyborg say that your name was Saitama?" The princely hero asked.

The bald hero shrugged. "Last I checked it was…"

Flash's eyes narrowed scrupulously. "I suppose I owe you thanks. You saved me from a deal of trouble hunting down that scumbag behind you…"

The bomber shuddered upon receiving an icy glance from out of the corner of the ninja's eye.

"Ahh, it was nothing, really." Saitama rubbed the back of his head.

"Indeed," Flash replied, "but to the people you saved, it might be something. If you would permit me, I would like to carry the extra mile by taking him off your hands for you."

Saitama put a finger to his chin to think about it, unaware of the criminal frantically shaking his head in the negative behind him. His wish was denied however, when Saitama replied, "Sure, I guess. I have a place to be anyway."

Flash gave him a single nod before sliding past him and directing his full attention on the restrained culprit.

"Ahh, the man of the hour." He gave the bomber an uncharacteristically evil smile. "I'm so lucky that I finally get to meet you. We are such great admirers of your work."

The wide-eyed terrorist spotted a few stray crabs still hanging off the hero's cape by their pincers. There was even a smaller one dangling off a bang of his hair.

"Oh yes, we're _huge_ fans of yours, Mister Bomber." Wild Horn had come up to join Flash in looking down at their new prey. Unlike his S-Class partner, he was mostly crab-free, save for a sizeable Dungeness that hung from one of his horns by a claw. "And we would _love_ to have your autograph—"

"—in the form of a handwritten confession." Flash finished.

They both gave their knuckles a sound crack, standing with long shadows looming over the poor prisoner. A warm puddle seemed to be emerging from underneath where he knelt.

"Hey, Horn."

"Yes, Flash."

"Make our new friend comfortable."

"Loud and clear."

The bull reached down and firmly grabbed the man by the front of his muffler, dragging him high off his feet and hanging him from his horns using the cords he was already bound with. Being the shorter of the two, the criminal had no choice but to dangle from his back as the B-Class hero began his journey towards the police station with him.

Flash prepared to follow behind, but stopped next to Swim, who was still staring up at the sky on crumbled knees, wondering when – or even _if_ – her role model would be coming back down.

"Swim." He broke her from her trance.

"Hn…?" She turned to stare at him in a daze.

Without smiling, he gave her a slight nod of acknowledgement. "…See you around."

"Oh, um…" the girl tried to put up a polite smile, despite how nervous she still felt for Fubuki. "N-Nice to finally meet you…Flashy Flash-sama."

He regarded her with one last glance over his shoulder as he turned to catch up with his partner. When he reached even pace next to Wild Horn, he spoke one more time to their third wheel.

"Hey, Bomber-kun. Do me a favor."

The man's face was pale with fright as he turned to listen.

"If a piece or two of you happens to go missing on the way to the PD…" Flashy Flash pulled out his sword, running two fingers along the fine edge of the blade. His eyes gleamed over at him with icy loathing. "…just tell them you were like that when we found you."

The man's face was all but pouring with sweat, and as he dismally hung his head in defeat, he uttered the only word anyone heard him speak since they captured him…

"Mommy…"

* * *

The cold drift of high elevation made Fubuki feel more vulnerable, if such a thing was even possible.

She was all alone now, and even if she believed anyone was capable of handling her sister, no one would be coming to help her from this high up.

Although she preferred walking unlike the other sibling, Fubuki too was capable of such feats as levitation. But when a bigger (well…stronger) esper has you wrapped around their finger, it no longer matters how far or fast you can fly. The way Tatsumaki had pinned her arms to her sides and suspended her muscles, there was nothing to stop the older empath from turning her on her head and flinging her hard into the planet with a mere thought.

Her elder sister remained floating in front of her, granting her a slight reprieve of silence before she spoke.

"If you and I were enemies instead of sisters…do you know what I would do to you?"

Fubuki didn't answer, but in her own mind, she was a very good guesser.

Tatsumaki must have taken the silence from her as a form of challenge, because she let the taller woman suddenly drop for a few meters, prompting Fubuki to scream before the green light of her older sister caught her again.

" _Do you know what I'd do?!"_ Tatsumaki shouted the question to her face. Fubuki shut her eyes tight to her, willing her mind to take her someplace more pleasant than here.

The green-haired empath's face grew void of emotion, and knowing that she wouldn't get her answer, she cut right to the chase.

"For being such a child, you sure have grown up fast." She acknowledged. "But I see your body isn't the _only_ thing that's gotten bigger. Your ego did it too."

When she saw that Fubuki still had her eyes shut, the smaller sibling reached over and snapped her fingers right next to her ear, giving off a loud, explosive crackle that startled them back open.

"I'm talking to you, damn it."

"I can hear you just fine." Her sister pushed back.

"Ooooh," Tatsumaki feigned surprise, "you _can,_ can you? Well you sure as hell don't _listen_ like it…"

"What do you want me to say?..." Her sister asked, already fighting to keep her lunch down.

"Say you'll listen." Tatsumaki replied. "Surely it can't be that complicated, even for a bonehead like you."

Fubuki gritted her teeth in humiliation, already feeling tears starting to push up to her eyeballs. "Fine…" She mumbled. "I'm listening."

Tatsumaki puffed up her chest with a deep sigh before continuing. "Little sister. I am a private person. Not a trusting one. But when I shared _deeply personal_ details with you – such as where I live – I did so because I trusted you. And along with that trust came a responsibility that _you_ failed to uphold. I went well out of my way to let you know how _mad_ I'd get if you passed my info along…and you did it anyway. So look what happens."

Fubuki lowered her gaze, afraid to look her sister in the eye for a myriad of reasons.

"Yeah, I knew it was you." Tatsumaki told her. "I almost didn't want to figure it out, but it wasn't hard. You're my only living relative left, and I only keep stuff like this to family." She leaned forward to get up in the other woman's face. "Telling that bald weirdo where I stay was a complete disregard of my wishes…and a flagrant betrayal of that hard-to-earn trust."

"Pff." Fubuki had to scoff at that.

That got Tatsumaki's attention in a hurry. "You got something to say to me?..." She growled.

"For once in my life, I do." Fubuki replied. "You wanna lecture me on trust? You don't know the first _thing_ about trust. You're supposed to trust someone that you actually know – and you don't know me. You never took the damn time."

Tatsumaki gave her a disappointed look. "Yeah…" She muttered. "I guess I really didn't know you after all."

"And then besides," Fubuki fought on, "is it really _so_ awful that one extra person knows where that slummy apartment of yours is? What's that egghead gonna do that you're so afraid of? Be your friend? Because God forbid you actually made one – that would be terrible!"

"Don't make this about me, you overdressed skank! This is about something _you_ did!"

"What did I do, huh?!" Fubuki was startled to find herself shouting as loud her sister. "What have I done wrong?! Introduced you to one guy?! He could be a decent person for all you know!"

For the first time during the exchange, Tatsumaki was the one that fell silent. Her recent memories dragged her back into her room, where she continuously stared at the picture and small message left by her supposed partner.

"But I guess you don't know…" Fubuki continued with a hard glare. "And you'll never know. Because no matter what you say…the only person you'll ever trust or care about is yourself."

Tatsumaki's head jerked back towards her to give her a full view of her face. "You arrogant little shit…" Her eyes weren't just mad. They were full of hurt. "I was right… About your ego… You're a few good years behind, but at this rate…I'll bet you grow up to be an even bigger bitch than me."

Fubuki gave her an angry smirk. "But I'll be known as the bitch that tells the truth. And you'll find that honesty keeps more friends than pushing them away."

"Oh fuck your friends. Fuck all that shit. With powers like mine, I can take perfect care of myself!"

Fubuki gritted her teeth hard, as if she could physically feel her own words bounce off her sister's thick head back at her. She always knew how pigheaded she could be. But if reason wouldn't permeate her skull, then maybe something else would.

The taller esper thought hard about this. Did she dare?

…Yes.

"But you know…" Fubuki brought up slowly. "Being by yourself won't put any meat on the table…"

Tatsumaki raised her eyebrow, completely missing the euphemism. "Huh?"

"No sex." Fubuki explained, grinning with delight as the word ignited a look on her sister's face that she didn't recall ever seeing before. "And…" There was no turning back now. Time to go in for the killing blow. "Isn't it kind of bad…for you to be a virgin at your age—"

"ENOUGH!"

It was only too late for Fubuki to realize that she had pushed her too far. In a single waving motion of her hand, Tatsumaki had completely inverted her sister with a flip. From her restricted movement, Fubuki could barely hold her black dress down to keep her undergarments from showing.

As she already began to feel woozy from the blood rushing to her head, her sister exacerbated her precarious new position by harshly grabbing a handful of her hair. She winced in pain from the rough contact. Even seeing Tatsumaki from upside-down, the younger esper could read enough off the face in front of her to see that she had overstepped her bounds. Where there had before been a tinge of pink from embarrassment, there was now full red fury.

"I don't have any more patience to waste on you." Tatsumaki's voice seethed out as a slow burn. "Since you still don't seem to fully realize why this little field trip was necessary, I'll spell it out…" The grip on Fubuki's head tightened even more, prompting her to grunt in discomfort. "Stay out of my business. Stay out of my life. Fuck however many guys you want, but you will never _ever_ speak to me in this manner again. Do you understand that?"

Fubuki had lost the will to talk. Between how frightening her sister looked and how rough she was handling her, right now she was actually fearing for her life. On the verge of blacking out, she acted on instinct to preserve herself by giving Tatsumaki what she hoped she wanted.

She let out a weak nod, shutting her eyes tightly as tears began to roll inversely down her forehead.

She felt herself slowly float back into upright position, silently suggesting that her sister was placated. At least by enough.

Fubuki peeked out from her weeping eyes to see her sister's back facing her. Tatsumaki was staring out into the distance, her expression hidden from view.

"And another thing…" The green-haired sprite added. "Next time I tell you to come with me, I expect you to fucking come. It only came to this because you made me tell you twice." She turned her head to face Fubuki from over her shoulder, concluding with a slightly calmer tone, "Don't make me have to do that in front of strangers again. You embarrassed us both today."

Having said all that needed to be said, Tatsumaki released her sister from her psychokinesis, allowing the green energy to disperse from Fubuki's body. Despite the younger woman's emotional state, her own lighter blue variant of energy automatically replaced the force that had left to keep her from falling.

After seeing that Fubuki would be okay to fly herself home, Tatsumaki silently turned to make her way back to where a certain baldy had better still be waiting for her.

Left floating by herself in the middle of the sky, the younger of two very angry girls pressed both hands against her face as hot tears continued to flow through her fingers.

From between beaten sobs, she managed to free three small words from herself as her delicate body continued to shake with uncontainable grief.

"I…hate you…"

 **A/N: Shout-out to this being the longest chapter I've ever written for…literally anything in my life. 40 single-spaced pages of this shit, all done within a single week. Kinda concerned that I can't feel my pulse right now, but a solid review or two might get the blood pumping again.**

 **If you've made it this far with me, thanks for being my crew!**


	6. Martial Arts and an Esper, Pt I

Disclaimer: **I do not own One-Punch Man.**

 **Chapter 6: Martial Arts and an Esper, Part I**

With Flashy Flash and Wild Horn gone to escort their new captive to prison, the other three heroes remained behind to wait at the end of the crudely uprooted train tracks – courtesy of a certain green-haired girl's brute force solution.

Swim stood a bit far off from the other two, her eyes fixed skyward and remaining so since the sisters took off. Her face was evenly frozen between confusion and terror, both battling for dominance over which unpleasant emotion she should feel more. She had never in her life seen a person look at somebody else with the same malice as Tatsumaki showed the Blizzard of Hell. If not for the Tornado of Terror's high-ranking status as a renowned hero, the rookie wasn't so confident that the angry gremlin wouldn't pop her sister's head off like the cork of a champagne bottle and bathe everyone in the ripe fountain of her crimson contents.

The young woman's shaken world had gone virtually unnoticed by the other two guys with her, who were faced with certain distractions of their own.

"Why don't you guys ever invite me along when something fun happens?" Saitama half-jokingly addressed Genos. "Just because I'm bald doesn't mean you have to treat me like an estranged uncle…"

"That is not it, Master…" The cyborg replied with dreary eyes, clearly caught up in a more depressing matter weighing upon his conscience. The atmosphere around him was so heavy with gloom that even Saitama took notice.

"Hey, what's up? Why you lookin' so glum, chum?" Genos shamefully averted his mentor's gaze. This prompted Saitama to lean in closer and try again with a teasing smile. "Hey, c'mon dude, cheer up. You're acting like someone _died_ or something…" A long pause drew across their exchange, and the silence was starting to make Saitama feel uneasy. Just as he was about to insist for a final time, Genos broke the silence with a weak utterance.

"Sensei…" He bit down on his lip, searching for the right words to voice his condolence. "I am so sorry… I have failed… I…could not save them."

Saitama's eyes slowly widened with onset shock. "Whoa… So what…you're telling me…they really _did_ die?" Crippled by grief, all Genos could do was cuff a mechanical hand over his own mouth.

The revelation stretched slowly over Saitama like a chilling shadow, digging cold needles into his heart and stomach. He stood speechless in the aftershock of the news, feeling himself stiffen up as he clenched his fists in an effort to maintain his bearings.

Racking his head for what to say next, the only follow-up question that came to mind was,

"…How many?" Hearing the question caused Genos to visibly shudder. When the cyborg tried to turn away, his hairless companion grabbed him roughly by the shoulder and yanked him back into full-frontal focus. "Genos, how _many?_ "

The mechanically modified man closed his eyes in mourning.

"…All…All of them…" He choked out.

Immediately releasing him from grip, Saitama pulled away to give the cyborg a lingering stare. After taking an agonizing moment to search his face, he then lowered his gaze to the ground for a moment to struggle with the notion that what happened was real.

Reflecting on the humanity he feared he may have traded for his overwhelming power; the bald hero wasn't sure what exact emotions he should feel – so by that same token, he wasn't sure he even had a right trying to express them. Should he feel frustrated for being too slow? Sad that the people would never return to their families? Angry at the bomber for causing their deaths?

And what about the psychic girl responsible for destroying the train? How the hell could even a person like her do such a thing with innocent people still stuck onboard?!

For that instant, thinking about it didn't make sense. It hurt from just trying. The confusion was overwhelming. The fuse of Saitama's pent-up outrage was drawing dangerously short. Just as he was about to fully let loose, Genos despondently continued. "So…in light of this tragic event…please allow me to rectify the loss of the crabs by going out to obtain more."

…

" _Huh?"_

Saitama looked at him as if the metal man had just descended from outer space to hunt down the last Klyptonian.

"Wait…" He held up his hands in a halting motion towards Genos. "Wait wait wait wait… _Crabs?_ " His whole face was so contorted with disbelief that it looked like a deflated beach ball. "You're talking about losing _crabs?_ "

"Uh?" Genos gave him a confused stare. "Well, um, y-yes, Sensei. The fresh supply of crabs I was carrying for the evening roast. Why? What did you assume that I mea— _hurk!_ "

He found himself manhandled from the front by two strong clutches belonging to an incredibly disturbed sensei, cutting off his speech.

"Who gives a monkey's brass ball about a bunch of dumb crabs?!" Saitama shouted. "The _people,_ Genos – the _**people.**_ " He emphasized slow and robotically, eyes digging sternly into the machine man's retinas. "Please, _please_ tell me no one was on that thing when it went boom."

Genos blinked in realization. He was embarrassed to discover how he had been so wrapped up with his failed sacred errand of delivering the crabs that human casualty on a catastrophic scale had not dawned on him as a possible concern. "Ah. Before the Tornado of Terror threw me off the nose of the engine, I ran a quick thermal imaging scan, and no heat signatures were present within the train at the time it left the ground. I would surmise that the other heroes found a way to get the people to safety…"

Saitama heaved out a sigh of breath that he didn't even realize he was holding in. "I see… Then that's good."

"…assuming of course that the passengers did not leap off the speeding vehicle to their deaths during all the panic and confusion—"

His mentor snapped a hysterical face back to him with crazy bloodshot eyes popping out. "Why couldn't you just end the story at 'heroes saved them'?!" He spat while neurotically shaking the cyborg in his hands. "All I wanted was some happy closure, dammit!"

"They're all fine…"

The presence of the soft, innocent voice prompted Saitama to stop jostling his companion and look out over his shoulder at where it came from. He spotted Swim, who seemed to have snapped out of her trance for the time being to put the issue to rest. Her youthful face was still burdened with worry.

"Miss Fubuki used her powers." She continued in a light and wispy tone. "She saved everyone."

Saitama gave her an airy stare. "Who? Ah, that saucy fashionista." He clicked his tongue knowingly. "Well if that's what happened, then it's all good. Crabs are a little easier to replace than people, haha. Okay let's hit the trail, Genos."

The S-Class synth watched his bald mentor take a few blissful, exaggerated marches down the decimated track before calling after him. "Wait, Sensei! Won't the Tornado of Terror come looking for you?"

A brief image of the angry frilly-haired fairy flashed through Saitama's mind, and he screeched to a halt with his posture noticeably sagged. No way in hell did he want to deal with her right now, but one way or another, he supposed he would eventually have to. Especially since yesterday's invitation, which, given this latest brush with her, was already starting to feel more like slapping a pair of hand-cuffs between himself and the devil. "God, I can't catch a break…" He muttered.

Genos gave him a look of uncharacteristic sympathy. He wished just as much as anyone else that someone – _especially_ a troublesome someone like Tatsumaki – wouldn't replace him at his master's side. But such as things were, seeking out the esper was first and foremost Saitama's own decision, even though one of the head honchos had personally offered him every available escape out of the abominable pact.

All that the pseudo-machine could do was respect his teacher's judgement…as much as he wasn't sure he'd ever come to understand it.

"Well then…if you will excuse me…" The cyborg turned to head off in the opposite direction.

"Huh? Wait, Genos? Where are you going? Hey you saw the way she was just now, right? You're not seriously leaving me to deal with that all by myself, right?... _Right…?!_ " The rising hysteria in Saitama's voice made it sound as though he was being deserted and left to die on a bloody battlefield.

Genos turned his head to peer back at him. "I am sorry, Master, but if I do not set about acquiring more crabs immediately, then I will not be able to return in time for them to roast for dinner." _'And if that_ _ **shitty bastard bitch brat**_ _tosses me through the sky_ _ **one**_ _more fucking time, I am going to_ _ **seriously fucking lose it.**_ _'_ The cyborg added internally, his inner voice sounding a lot more frantic than how calm and collected he appeared on the outside.

"Genos, it doesn't have to be a _crab_ pot, you know." Saitama tried appealing. "It can be literally anything we can catch. Literally anything! How does a nice juicy pigeon roast sound to you? Eh? Ehhh?"

His disciple crinkled his nose at the suggestion before turning to glance over at Swim. He pulled a wad of paper out of his back pocket, taking a moment to uncrumple it and examine the picture of the missing sister again. His eyes narrowed dangerously on the detail he had caught earlier on the train before the business with the bomb disrupted it.

In the photo of the girl, resting comfortably between her two loving arms, was a plushie in the form of a pink rabbit. It had stubby limbs, long droopy ears, and was handsomely dressed in a tuxedo shirt with a tiny red bowtie. Hauntingly enough, it seemed to grin directly out at him through the picture with its beady black eyes and cute, curved smile.

' _I have seen this animal before… I am absolutely certain of it.'_ The stare he was giving the stuffed toy was so intense that it could almost burn a hole through the poster without any help from his pulse rays. _'But_ _ **where?**_ _'_

He was so vexed by the crucial piece of information that seemed to be missing from his brain, Genos didn't notice that Swim had made her way over to his side to place a careful hand on the hard, smooth alloy of his shoulder. He drew back in a small shudder, causing the girl to pull her hand away.

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you…" She apologized in earnest. "It's just…the way you were looking at her. Like you were…in pain?"

"Do not be troubled." He reassured her. "I cannot feel pain."

"Well…what're you thinking so hard about there?"

Genos spared the poster's key feature one last glance before deciding to appeal to her. "This little girl…do you recall how I saved her?"

Swim gave him a thoughtful blink before responding. "Well, yeah. Yes. For the first few days after the event, it was all anyone could get her to talk about. That rainy day when you showed up to fight that green monster."

Genos put a finger to his chin in calm reflection. "Can you provide any additional details?"

"I'm afraid I wasn't actually there…" She lamented. "I'm only going off how my sis described it. She said it was a big green monster that wore a crown and had hearts for…umm…well…'boobs,' she called them." She fidgeted uncomfortably at repeating her sibling's word of choice.

"Green monster…wore a crown…hearts for—" The cyborg cut off his own recap with a sharp gasp in realization.

Ever since Dr. Kuseno equipped him with the means to pursue vengeance on the rogue machine responsible for bringing ruin to his hometown and family, Genos had encountered more than his fair share of mysterious beings on the path to his ultimate objective. But among them, there was only one such monster that matched such a curious description.

Memories of the incident came flooding back to him almost all at once – so fresh and vivid that it was as if he was reliving them this very moment…

* * *

 _His auxiliary systems were compromised. His right arm was viciously torn off. He had a missing eye. Half of the polymerized 'skin' he wore on his face had peeled away, revealing the grotesque details of artificial engineering beneath._

 _In the ensuing slugfest, he had been taken to the limit of damage with little to no difficulty from his assailant._

 _He was beaten, battered and broken._

 _Yet still he needed to fight. He was the last line of defense._

 _He didn't even have time to spare a single fret for the large crowd of people he was protecting before the hulking creature came at him again, waging hard and heavy fists upon the cyborg's increasingly dismantled frame._

 _Genos was past the point of caring. In fight-or-fight mode, all that mattered to him were how many blows he could return to the megalomaniacal monster before either of them went down._

 _He narrowly dodged one of the brute's punches, spotting a small opening where he saw that the creature had dedicated too much force by throwing his arm out._

 _Seizing the opportunity, Genos initiated a flurry of kicks, putting the undersea ruler on the defensive long enough to knock his jaw loose and send him reeling. The cyborg then craned his body forward, investing all his momentum into the only arm he had left. The uppercut connected squarely with the beast's chin, blasting him through the shelter's roof and sending a massive ball of fire following him out the newly-made exit._

 _Restricted to being airborne, the monstrous monarch yelled in exertion, flexing his muscles to repel the stream of flame threatening to engulf him. When the flares were forced away, Genos arrived out of nowhere to greet him in midair._

" _Lightning Eye!" The cyborg activated a brilliant yellow flash through his last remaining oculus, bathing his adversary in a blinding ray that caused his pupils to shrivel._

" _I can't see…!" The ocean dweller groaned in frustration. It was the only courtesy Genos would allow before sending him plummeting back into the shelter with a devastating axe kick._

 _Just as the monster came crashing against the roof, Genos propelled himself downwards to land on top of him with a renewed onslaught of strikes._

" _Machine Gun Blows!"_

 _The merciless surge of attacks sent them both crashing through the foundations back into the densely packed interior of the building. Despite their continued freefall, Genos would not let up on the assault. He knew that every nanosecond he did was a chance for his foe to steal back the advantage._

" _You do enjoy a good combo attack, don't you?" The creature quipped with amusement, even as his face was being savagely bashed in._

 _The two kicked up a sandstorm of dust when they landed. As the cloud cleared, and Genos saw that the monster was back on its feet, his spirits fell sharply. If he had made any progress in that all-or-nothing attack, it now appeared as if he never even bothered in the first place._

 _The tyrant roared with primal delight as he single-handedly matched the cyborg's arm with the impossibly thick limb of his own. Even at a fraction the size of what he was up against, Genos did well to hold his opponent at bay, but it was clear at this point that the alpha reptile was just toying with him._

 _From behind the two contenders, one of the civilians was frantically pulling a little girl – presumably a daughter – by the hand, away from the violence. The child was barely up to the adult's hip. Even as she ran while holding a stuffed animal around her arm, she stared back over her shoulder, watching through brown, tearful eyes as the cyborg continued to struggle._

" _Y-You can do it!" She dared to shout to Genos over the action, earning the attention of both fighters._

" _ **Quiet!"**_ _The aquatic ruler bellowed in outrage, snapping his head toward her to spit out a gob of hot acid._

 _Genos watched in awe as the slimy green projectile coasted straight for her with freakish precision._

 _The monster let loose a jagged grin. "And now you melt…little girl."_

" _No!"_

 _In an act of desperation, Genos completely withdrew from his quarry and dashed out in between the girl and the mucus missile. Just as he reached out to shove the girl out of the way, he felt the gruesome splatter of poison strike his back._

 _The effects were immediate. The liquid dissolved his clothes, skin, and even exoskeleton as if it were all just waxy tallow._

 _While Genos felt nothing for the first few seconds of impact, the juice quickly ate its way through his spine, decimating the pain inhibitors lining the nerve cluster. Then, with every organic piece he still had left…he felt it all. He felt his body flare up like a caldera of white-hot coals. He felt the pain burn, sear, needle, crawl, shock, and shake him in just about every other conceivable aspect._

 _The girl whose agonizing death he had undoubtedly prevented stood numbly in front of his rapidly disintegrating body, somehow completely free from even a drop of what he just received. A fact which, even despite what it was now putting him through, he was eternally thankful for. No human – especially one so young – should ever be brought to experience such an amalgam of sensations. Rather than focus on the world of pain now ruling over him, he instead elected to focus on the one he had just spared her from._

 _His mouth hung open to let out fragmented grunts of his broken voice as steam continued to roll off his shoulders and down his back. He stared down at the quivering, wide-eyed horror the girl wore on her face. At the bewilderment dancing unbridled in those big brown eyes._

 _And how those big brown eyes shivered knowingly right back up at him._

 _In a moment that was seemingly infinitesimal to everyone else in the room, time for those two stood still._

 _And between the dying cyborg and this nameless young face – no two strangers ever understood one another so completely._

 _The frozen moment shattered when Genos heard a taunting chuckle from behind him and felt the back of his head being grabbed by a grizzly clutch._

 _What transpired thereafter…was best left forgotten._

* * *

The Deep Sea King's near-fatal incursion with the city's evacuation shelter gave Genos a very thorough and much needed education on pain and the importance of preparation to avoid it. He only prayed that watching what the monster did to him from such a personal distance hadn't been too much of an eyeful for that young girl.

Swim could tell by the way his eyes darkened that he remembered the exact circumstances under which they met.

"Hey…" She called out in a soft voice, trying her best to sooth his troubled mind. "Please don't look like that… Believe it or not, I think being rescued by you actually helped her. Eh—I mean…" She rolled her eyes at the silliness of her own obvious statement. "Of _course_ saving her life _helped_ her, but she also appeared more…driven after that. She started studying harder. Exercising regularly. Asking us these questions that…she never would've even thought to ask before. It was almost like living with a completely different person. You changed her life. I-In a good way, of course!"

Genos gave her a moot stare. "I see."

"A-Anyways," The junior hero awkwardly digressed, "you don't need to put so much worry on yourself. I think there's a chance she's still safe out there."

"No…"

Swim's face rounded with total shock at the response. "N-No…?"

"There is not only a chance she is out there." Genos clarified, squeezing the poster he held back into a crumple. "She _is_ out there. And I will ascertain that by being the one to bring her back myself." The glare in his expression had shifted from passive to resolute. "I will assist your sister for a second time."

Swim's eyes slowly lit up at his declaration of rescue. The natural blush on her cheeks returned with extra warmth as she couldn't help but broadly smile. "You mean that? Oh thank you so much—ah~?!"

Understandably, she was more than a little surprised as a cartoonish head popped up between hers and the cyborg's.

Saitama, having grown tired of feeling ignored, decided to upgrade his status to 'third-wheel' and cut in on their exchange. "What's this I hear about a sister?" He asked facing the girl. "She hot?"

While Swim only gave the strange bald man a nervous laugh, Genos slipped the paper back into his pocket. "Do not trouble yourself with it, Master. This matter will be resolved long before your assistance becomes necessary."

"Huh?" Having only walked in on the last five seconds of the discussion, Saitama naturally had no clue what his bionic friend was talking about. "Sure, that's cool, but all I asked was if she's hot though…"

Rather than answer that, Genos turned around to fully face him before straightening himself up and delivering a courteous bow. "Master! I formally request the right to restore my honor by going to obtain additional crabs."

Hearing the cyborg persist with that caused Saitama to perk up in panic again. "What?! Noooo." He held his arms up in a dissenting X-shaped cross. "Request denied."

"Then I informally ask if it's cool for me to go get more crabs."

"Denied again!"

"Then I informally protest by proceeding to turn the other way and sprint as fast as I possibly can."

"Genos, don't you even think about—!"

But he was talking to a smoky trail. The cyborg had already blazed his way clear down the tracks with friction rivaling the train they had just stopped.

Saitama stared at the literally flaming footprints left behind in wide-eyed disbelief. Falling dramatically on his knees, he threw back his head and screamed up to the heavens the same phrase he had used time and again whenever he decimated a potential rival with a single punch:

" _DAMMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!"_

The volume scattered numerous birds from where they perched all around.

Swim stood by helplessly, covering her ears in response to the outburst with closed eyes and a weak, pained smile.

Almost immediately after the bellowing echo died out, another voice screeched faintly from over a high distance:

"Bwah! What the fu—?! That— _ack…!_ " The voice seemed to be choking on something. "That goddamn fucking bird came out of _nowhere!_ Fucking shit!"

As if the distressed cursing needed any distinction, the source plunged down from the sky at enraged speed, touching down in front of the two heroes with such force that it kicked up a ring of wind around her.

They immediately saw what the object of the choking was as an incredibly disturbed Tatsumaki spat up a few more feathers, having practically swallowed the bird that flew directly into her flight path while fleeing from Saitama's doom-spelling death wail.

"What the hell are you screaming like a bitch for?" She seethed at him furiously, sputtering a few more times for good measure to free her mouth from any extra dander. "Now I'm gonna be tasting that winged rat all week! Thanks a lot, asshole!"

Her sudden re-entry into his world gave the bald hero little time to prepare for the onslaught of profanity that he sensed had only _begun_ flying his way at terminal velocity. Saitama recomposed himself sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head as he put forth small effort to staunch her outrage. "Ah…my bad, sis."

"Yeah, that's right," she punctuated heatedly, _"your bad."_

Her aggressive stab at him caused the hobbyist hero to sag with discouragement, already feeling the extra weight that his cybernetic wingman had dumped on him when he flew the coop.

While Saitama was rendered unsure of what to say next, Swim made a tentative attempt to voice her concern as to why the other sister appeared to be missing from her.

"Uh-umm…Miss Tatsumaki-sama…? Ma'am…?" Her shaking voice squeaked with all the confidence of a baby chipmunk.

The Tornado flashed her a cold glint of her emerald eyes. "Yeah? And _you_ are?"

"Ah! Umm, I'm no one noteworthy, really…aheheh…" The more mild-mannered of the two ladies reckoned that the less this walking, talking, living, breathing natural disaster knew about her, the safer she would be in the long run. It didn't take S-class survival instincts to put _that_ one together. "You see, I, uhh…I was just wondering…umm…"

Tatsumaki raised her eyebrows impatiently at the girl's stammers. "Yes? Umm? You were wondering? _Umm?_ "

Swim shut her eyes in a sharp wince at having her own nervous habit so brusquely pointed out. She knew she'd be a fool to hope for more than this. This hero wasn't about to handle her with the same gloves that the others aboard the train did. Just by going off the hostility in her voice alone, it was abundantly clear that the Tornado of Terror would spare no harsh rhetoric; would make no attempts to paint herself in a prettier light to please others. Even compared to Fubuki, who had established herself as something of an authoritative figure, what stood before her now was an entity altogether new. Uncomfortably, unequivocally new.

Deciding not to drag this moment out any longer than necessary, Swim forced the lump down her throat with a painful swallow. "Is…Miss Fubuki okay?" She was meekly poking her pointer fingers together as the words left her.

Tatsumaki was silent for a moment, almost as if weighing and measuring the question in her mind. She was still quite bitter – no – she was _pissed_ about how the last interaction had gone, and she wasn't exactly looking for a way to get reeled back into the drama. On one hand, the business between Tatsumaki and her sister was strictly nobody else's to speak of, but on the other hand, this girl looked like a nice enough guppy, and she probably didn't deserve half of the frustration that was churning in the esper's gut.

"I dunno." The greenhead shrugged. "Maybe later. But I wouldn't count on seeing her again…for a while."

"Oh…" The hopeful light in Swim's eyes noticeably dimmed. "Is that so…"

"Yeah that's so." Tatsumaki nodded while firmly crossing her arms. "So you might as well just go home, little Miss 'No One Noteworthy, Really.'"

Tatsumaki expected the younger girl to take her up on her words, hoping that she wouldn't have resort to anything more than a sternly-worded request to get the message across.

But just as the small esper turned back to Saitama and opened her mouth to address him, the girl's annoying voice chirped up again. "She isn't hurt, is she…?"

That raked away the last of her patience.

She snapped her head to scowl back at Swim and spoke in a raised voice, "Hey, do your ears not work, or are you just touched in the head?!" She heard the timid girl gasp at the sudden outburst, but ignored it. "I already told you to _go home._ The adults are talking now."

The C-Class heroine's face had drained of all its color. The jovial warmth in her veins had been replaced with icy cold. She stared up at the smaller creature hovering above her with renewed fear, taking the first hesitant step backwards without breaking away from facing her.

Tatsumaki continued staring her down menacingly, watching the girl slowly back away before tucking tail and fleeing like a small, wounded animal. Everything about that girl disgusted her. How pitifully she retreated. How sweet and innocent she looked, as if she had never committed a sin in her life. How she regarded Fubuki with such sappy sentiment, as if she cared more about her sister than her own blood did – even in light of what just happened.

But most of all, what disgusted her was how that girl looked at her the same way almost everyone in her life looked at her. As if she was about to turn into some giant oozing monster and eat her alive, bones and all. But Tatsumaki knew it was the price that came with the fear she commanded, and she knew just how right everyone was to be afraid of her. In the world she understood, fear was much more reliable than good will, and she doubted that would ever change. Against other people, it was the one absolute comfort that her powers afforded her, and she'd be damned to give it up.

She exhaled through her nose with lingering irk before turning again to face the bald jerk who had been occupying the lion's share of her thoughts as of late.

For a moment, the two just stood facing each other in the open clearing, both possessing an expression that neither hero could read off the other. The cape of Saitama's uniform and the flap of Tatsumaki's dress seemed to dance harmoniously together in the afternoon breeze. But where other matters were concerned, the tension between the two had anything but harmony.

"Well? Are you satisfied?" Saitama regarded her not with the same fear as the girl did, but with mild disapproval. "Now that you thoroughly scared everyone off?"

"So what if I am." She fired back, unabated.

"Hey, are you mad or something?"

"Usually am."

"Still at me?"

"Maybe."

Saitama breathed a heavy sigh through his mouth. If this was what he had to look forward to in a casual exchange with her, color him disinterested. He had better things to do than to word-spar with a leprechaun that woke up on the wrong side of the rainbow. Besides, he gave her all the time she needed to present her case, and it didn't seem too urgent.

"Yeah, well, uhh, anyways…" He gave her one more awkward glance before turning away from her. "See ya around."

"Wha—hey!" The sudden announcement of his departure caught her off guard. "Come back here! I didn't say you could leave!"

"That sucks, 'cuz I'm already doing it." He responded without looking back.

She dropped her jaw at how casually he just brushed her off. This bastard was really begging for some correctional education at the Tornadic School of Hard Knocks.

She shot up through the air and swooped down in front of him, blocking his way forward. From there, all she did was continue to size him up with a careless, detached stare.

Determined not to be slowed down, Saitama altered his course to walk around her, only to find that she adjusted her levitation accordingly in order to stonewall him again. He tried moving the other direction – same result.

His eyebrow twitched in annoyance. What was wrong with this brat?

As he pondered whether he should try just jumping over her, she spoke up.

"You wanna walk away from me that badly?" She challenged him. "Last time we danced like this, I let my guard down. But now you have my undivided attention. …Let me show you what that entails."

She extended an arm forward to him with outstretched fingers and emitted her signature green glow. Soon, she had him completely wrapped in her brilliant psionic light. She watched as he visibly stiffened in response to her incorporeal influence.

A devilish grin crept across her face. He was all hers now.

It was one thing for her to try and restrain him using flimsy objects in the environment such as the underground pipes from earlier. But now she had him in a purely intangible, uncrackable kinetic chokehold. And once she was fully committed to a target, neither man, beast, vegetable, vitamin, nor mineral could ever hope to break her vise-grip on them.

"Whoa…what's this?" Saitama stared down at himself. "I feel a little…heavy. Have I put on some weight? Maybe it's time for me to go back on that diet…"

"Ugh…!" Tatsumaki grunted in surprise when she felt a tug of resistance on the invisible tether binding him to her. _'Hungry for more, huh? That's okay, tough guy. I have plenty of reserves…'_ Determined not to let her prey gain the upper hand a second time, she redoubled her focus and held out her other arm to assist her efforts in subduing him.

The radioactive glow around Saitama expanded, and he noticed the area around him vibrate, as if he was enervating the very planet itself just by standing on it.

Feeling a bit discouraged that he really might be letting himself go, the bald hero dragged a small step forward, causing huge cracks to form in the concrete when he put his foot back down.

' _How…'_ Tatsumaki was starting to break into sweat, gritting her teeth viciously as she fought for control. _'How is this even possible?! I'm suspending him with more gravitational force than a small black hole! He shouldn't even be standing…!'_ Her face fell into awe as she watched him take another step towards her, slow but certain. His heels were trailing tremendous chasms in the cemented ground from where she continued to apply the artificial weight.

"Hah… Hah…! _Haahh!_ " She couldn't hope to hide her fatigue, mouth gaping open as she gasped for breath. A large vein popped up on her forehead to signify that her brain was firing on all cylinders.

At this point, Saitama was knee deep into the solid ground as if it were snow. The rumbling in his surroundings violently peaked. "Ah. What's going on?" He wondered aloud as he watched himself continue to sink up to his waist. "An earthquake?"

' _Th-This is_ _ **bullshit!**_ _'_ Tatsumaki managed to hold on, but only just. Both of her eyes were shut tight from the exertion, and her brow was contorted with muscle.

Suddenly her eyes shot back open, watching with wide shock as the Caped Baldy, up to his neck in the ground, crawled out of the fissure she had all but buried him in like a terraformed trash compactor.

"W-Wait." She kept her arms held out at him in vain, staring helplessly as he shrugged off most of her control, seemingly without even realizing what was going on. He continued to advance on her with a gradual but ever persistent shuffle. By the method he appeared to ascend out of the pit like climbing a stairway, Tatsumaki could tell just how much of her interference was waning with every step he took. "Wait, wait, wait…!" She was practically pleading with him now that he was within a few feet from where she was floating.

Eventually, her two outstretched hands were firmly pressed up against the bulk of his chest, and he was passively pushing her back as he continued walking. By this time, it became apparent to her that he was completely oblivious to where she was.

"H-Hey…! Stop! Stop, dammit! _Stop!_ " She yelled feverishly as she continued to stiff-arm him from the front.

"Eh?" He blinked on cue of the last emphasized 'stop' and stared down at the girl who was still holding on to his chest. "You're still here?"

"Don't give me that! Of fucking _course_ I'm still here!" She spat up at him, outraged that he seemed to have forgotten all about her. "How could you just ignore me like that?! Baka! Baldy! Cue ball! Lightbulb! Kneecap! Die!"

"Jeez, I get it, I get it, you're pissed off…" He spoke over her, rubbing his head almost self-consciously as she continued to insult it.

"More importantly, how the hell did you do that?!" She huffed impatiently.

"Huh?" He regarded her with a clueless blink. "Do? Do what?"

" _That_ , you moron! I'm talking about _That!_ " She honestly didn't know if he was being a smartass or just a dumbass. But her brief history with him seemed to suggest that the latter was more plausible, so she elaborated. "How did you resist my psychokinesis?"

"Was _that_ what happened?" The discovery seemed to cheer Saitama up, because he broke into a stupid smile. He almost seemed to tear up even. "Thank God! I'm not getting fat…!"

"What?" She was completely blindsided by this concern. "Are you stupid? Just answer my question, dipshit!"

"Easy." He talked her down. "I don't know anything about how your voodoo works."

"It's not voodoo; I just told you it's _psychokinesis._ "

"Yeah…pretty sure that's just the sciency way of saying voodoo."

"You're so ignorant!"

"Thanks. Can I go now?"

Tatsumaki bit down on her thumbnail in aggravation. "So you're telling me…you really don't know how you did it?"

Saitama shrugged. "What if I do? What if I don't? Which of these answers would really satisfy you if the result won't change either way?"

"Ever heard of 'deductive reasoning'?" She jibed. "Sometimes you can't solve a problem unless you know what the problem _is_ first."

"Well as much as I'd love to tell you how to 'solve' me, I'm afraid I've yet to figure that out for myself. Now can you please let me leave? I've got a place to be."

Tatsumaki couldn't believe this. Her first brush with a being capable of repelling her near-limitless capabilities, and it turns out that he's too unlettered to coherently explain himself for it. If someone out there was indeed a match for her, she had at least hoped that he would appear more…impressive. What a major letdown.

"…Where are you so eager to get to anyway?" She asked him, trying not to sound curious.

"I'm headed to Old Man Bang's for a potluck supper."

Tatsumaki raised her eyebrow. "Old Man Bang?..." She slowly hung her jaw open as she connected the dots. "You mean _Silver Fang?_ "

"I guess? I just call him Bang though…"

"You're telling me that you. Are actually friends. With _Silver Fang?!_ " This baldy was just throwing one surprise after another at her. Sure the martial arts master was friendly enough, but even so, she couldn't imagine a bigshot like him wanting anything to do with such a plain-looking joe. "How the hell did _that_ happen?" She protested. "That almost seems… _unnatural._ "

"Why's it such a big deal who I hang out with?" Saitama asked, annoyed by her insinuation. "I'm people, you're people, he's people; we're all just people here."

"Hmph!" She scoffed. "Well it's not like I care what he does in his free time. He probably just lets you hang out with him out of pity."

"Sure…" He grumbled. "…let's go with that."

Despite the jab, he deemed it unnecessary to tell her about how the old man had been all but obsessed with the idea of recruiting Saitama as a student in his dojo. Well, looking at what he already had to work with, he could understand how the desperation was warranted. Saitama declined the offer, but apparently one no hadn't been enough for that guy. The mustached martial artist has been looking for ways to lure him in ever since; the latest attempt being the promise of a nice dinner while he introduced his new partners.

Saitama decided to switch subjects.

"So made any breakthroughs on what we brushed up about yesterday? Or are you coming by my apartment to give your answer tomorrow?"

The esper gave him a shake of her head. "I haven't decided."

"That so?" He replied solemnly as he started walking past her again. "Well I know it's a big choice, so take the evening to think on it some more."

"You misunderstand me." She called back to him over her shoulder, causing him to stop. "I haven't decided, and I won't." She turned to fully confront him. "Not until I interrogate you properly."

"You mean not until we talk?" He translated, causing her to grimace at the twisting of her words into something more intimate. "Is that why you came looking for me?"

"L-Looking for you?!" For the briefest moment, she gave him an astonished look before snapping it away from him. "D-D-Don't be so silly! I just happened to see you while I was flying by and decided to get this hassle over with! Why would I actually…lo-loo…do that for _you?_ "

He scratched his cheek indifferently. "I guess it would be to talk, like you were saying."

"No!" She blurted frantically. "I-I said I would _interrogate_ you!"

"Isn't interrogating just talking, except louder?"

Tatsumaki bit her tongue, caught off guard by the hole in her defense, which seemed to grow harder and harder to patch up. "S-So?!" She was doing her best to avoid his eyes. "I mean sure, I guess that's _one_ way to interpret it! You got a problem with that?"

Saitama raised his eyebrows in small wonder. This impish girl, who up until now had him convinced that she hated even the mere shape of his head, was now expressing (sort of) that she wants more to do with him? Sure he had stopped by to visit her, and yeah he even left her a small gift. But from how hellbent she seemed about staying her course and remaining solo, he never actually thought that his gestures would be so moving.

' _Ohoho~'_ He put a pretentious finger under his chin as he assessed the situation with amusement. _'It was the picture, wasn't it.'_ Still hiding his face away from the esper, he let loose a bombastic grin in self-plaudit of his creative skills. _'It had to have been that awesome picture. Maybe if I retire from hero work, I can open a day job as a freelance artist.'_ He gave a few pompous chuckles from under his breath where she couldn't hear them before turning around to answer her.

"Well if talking it out will help you, then I guess we can. But not here."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm hungry." He told her. "And it's hard to hold my attention while I'm thinking about food."

Tatsumaki rolled her eyes. It's not like she expected him to make this easy anyway. "Ugh…fine, whatever. I guess we can discuss it on the way. But under _no_ circumstances am I going into that dojo with you, you hear?!"

"Loud and clear, as usual…" he muttered. "But let's get another thing straight – I don't wanna spend half an hour with a girl hovering over me calling me mean names. If you wanna come along, I want you to do your best to be civilized." He paused to let his point sink in. "…We _can_ be civilized adults about this, can't we?"

"Well I know _**I**_ can!" She retorted.

The uncivilized tone in her voice gave Saitama _every_ confidence.

* * *

"Chrome dome."

"Beansprout fairy."

"Sun-bleached avocado."

"Frizzy green elf."

"Derpy Easter egg."

The two titans took turns trading verbal blows, having cast aside their pretense of civility for more than fifteen minutes since they started traveling together.

While Tatsumaki was being honest that she needed to continue basically where they left off yesterday, it hadn't dawned on her until the last possible second that she had utterly no idea on how to start. Sad as it seemed, the record-holder for longest human interaction had probably been a tie between an event with Fubuki, and the five minutes she had allowed for the Caped Baldy to present his case the day before. Tatsumaki's run-ins with other people had given her a sharp tongue – just maybe not the silver one she needed for more diplomatic approaches.

As such, they spent the first five-to-ten minutes in total silence with her floating along next to Saitama as he walked.

To say things were off to an awkward start wouldn't even scratch the surface of it.

When Saitama was looking away, Tatsumaki would sneak a glance at him. And when Saitama turned to look back, she snapped her head away. For a moment or two, she even thought she caught glimpse of him doing the same thing with her, but if he was, his reflexes were at least on par, because she still wasn't certain if it was true.

Eventually Saitama had been first to speak up, evidently noticing how uncomfortable the smaller esper looked.

He asked her what was on her mind.

She told him nothing was.

So then he asked if she meant that she was thinking about nothing important, or just nothing at all.

That led to her insulting his intelligence.

Which led to him insulting her height.

Which led to her telling him to go have sex with himself. Repeatedly. With a blowtorch.

Thus, the fruits born of their exchange were as followed.

"Evil garden gnome."

"Hairless ape."

While they had at first succeeded in agitating one another with the petty name-calling, somewhere along the way the insults had sparked into something of a game. Now it felt more like they weren't so much doing it for the sake of angering each other as they were to see who could keep it up the longest.

"Devil munchkin."

"Pecker head."

"Drowned cat."

"Stupid octopus…"

The long string of offenses came screeching to a halt as they both processed their latest round of insults.

Outraged, the two snapped their heads to shout into each other's face.

"Hey! Just how am I an octopus?!" Saitama yelled indignantly.

"How the hell am I a _cat?_ " Tatsumaki fired back through her teeth.

"Because I don't like cats, small fry!"

"Well what makes you think they feel differently about _you,_ you tight-skinned scrote?!"

"I…! Ffff…" He was down, but not out. "…You're short!"

"You're bald!"

The two took a moment to jam their fists into their hips, glaring daggers into one another with Saitama leaning forward over Tatsumaki to capitalize on the height difference. Then, as if rehearsed, they simultaneously snapped their heads away with a perfectly synchronized

"HMPH!"

Brushing off the fresh embers of their smoldering quarrel, they picked up the pace and started moving again.

"Bitch, how much longer?" Tatsumaki asked passively.

"Longer and longer the more you complain, pipsqueak." Saitama replied in an equally neutral tone.

"You're slow as hell, fruit bowl."

"So fly off without me, twerp."

"Hmph! Maybe I _will!_ "

"Cool. Do it."

"Fine."

"Great."

"Here I go."

"…"

"…"

"…You have no idea where Bang lives, do you."

"…Shut up."

* * *

After what felt like an eternity traveling together through a purgatorial hell of strange side-glances and stabbing remarks, the two finally made it to the foot of the slope that the dojo sat on.

Tatsumaki didn't know what location she expected, but it sure as hell wasn't the summit of a freaking _mountain range._

High, high up against the stony cascade, the distinguished shape of the small fighting school watched over the rest of City Z like an eagle's nest. Preceding the dojo was an endlessly long stairway that seemed to be crudely carved out of the face of the cliffside. Nonetheless, appealing to the steps sure beat the shit out of rock-climbing, even though a long life of use had dilapidated the path.

Obviously the climb was of little concern to Tatsumaki, who could easily just fly straight to the front entrance and leave this agitating egghead in the dust. It had been neither the first nor last time that the thought to do so would cross her mind. But even though she had no plan to actually go inside, she realized how awkward it would be to show up at someone else's pad by herself unannounced, so she begrudgingly elected to stay back with him.

After a long tedious journey up the rigid rock ridge, the two heroes reached the front entrance arch of the solitary structure. It stood strong at two stories high, with each level tucked beneath the fly eaves of traditional eastern roofing. Being that they were standing on stone terrain, there wasn't much in the way of a front lawn – although to both sides of the main walkway, a moat of rock and gravel had been carefully paved into a quaint little zen garden.

The unlikely pairing ascended the last few steps leading to the smoothly sanded patio of the first floor. Facing a large double door, the two gave a final exchange of glances before Saitama reached over and gave the wood a rhythmic series of knocks.

 **-Thump** _ **thump-thump-thump**_ **thump…thump—**

Right as he initiated the final pound, the heavy door swung inward, and a mound of orange hair stuck out the entry to meet them.

The familiar face of Bang's number one (and only) disciple gave the bald hero a look that was one notch above weary and one below dirty.

"Oh." Saitama blinked at who it was. "What's up, Churro."

The student furrowed his eyebrows. "It's Charanko…"

"Yep, it sure is." He replied absently.

"You're late." Charanko scolded him dryly.

Saitama gave him a shrug. "Got sidetracked."

"In this dojo, one of our philosophies is that there are not enough crutches in the world for all of its lame excuses." The apprentice snapped. "Are you planning on making a hobby out of keeping my sensei waiting?"

"Is the old man around?" Saitama asked, ignoring the lecture to try peering over Charanko's shoulder.

"Perhaps…" He vaguely responded.

Saitama raised his eyebrows. "Does that mean you don't know?"

"It means that _perhaps_ Bang-sensei went to do something more productive than wait for slacking guests to arrive."

"Hey, how about you consider that your 'sensei' has his damn house sitting like a shit-zillion miles away from the city." Tatsumaki spoke up.

The martial arts pupil tilted his head to look down at her with a deepening scowl. After a moment, he turned back to ask Saitama, "What's with the sassy kid? She lost or something?"

Saitama only had enough time to respond with a sympathetic look before his shorter acquaintance erupted.

"What the hell did you call me?!" She snarled with hostility, almost sending Charanko stumbling back into the building from shock that she was capable of such harsh language. "You better get Silver Fang out here _right fucking now,_ or **_you're_** the one who's gonna need crutches. How's _that_ for a philosophy?"

The dojo disciple passed Saitama a bewildered look, as if expecting the bald hero to do something about his companion's outburst.

"Take it from a guy who's seen things; fighting with her isn't worth the headache." Saitama cautioned with a thousand-yard stare. "You're better off just tagging in the old man."

Against his better judgement, Charanko was not so eager to take his advice. "I-I think I can assess the situation myself, thank you!" With a quick turn, he regarded the esper again with a pointed finger, causing her to twitch murderously with green energy as he spoke. "Now look here, you little brat…!"

A split second before Tatsumaki sought to 'assess' the bastard's arms right out of their socket joints, a stern voice echoed out from behind him.

"That's quite enough, Charanko!"

The boy jerked up and spun around, unaware that the master of the dojo was right behind him.

He hurried aside to make way for Bang, who came shuffling out past him to greet his guests. When he had fully taken Charanko's place in front of them, he gave a dignified bow, hunched over in the wizened posture he commonly was.

"Forgive my student. I merely had him watch the door while I prepared the tatami mats and tables for the meal. I hadn't expected him to use such uncouth manners."

While Saitama meant to brush off the offense, his fellow traveler had other ideas in mind.

"You're goddamn right about that! That straw-headed shitbag was extremely uncouth!"

Saitama slipped her a suspicious side glance. _'Are you really one to talk with that mudslinging mouth of yours…?'_

Noticing her for the first time, the wrinkles in the elder's face stretched as his expression grew wide-eyed. "Oooooh. So you've come too, Tornado of Terror. I heard when you were announced as Saitama's partner during the pairings, but…well…don't take this the wrong way, but I never dreamed you would ever actually darken the doorstep of my dojo…"

"Yeah, well…that makes two of us." She justified. "Come to think, I don't even know what I'm doing here now."

"Nonsense!" He proudly protested. "This marks a momentous occasion! I am so thrilled that Saitama managed to convince you of all people to come to our event!"

She dropped her jaw. "C-Convince me?!" The thought was so damning that it almost made her dizzy. "N-Now wait just a second here…!"

"And where is Genos?" Bang asked Saitama, leaving the esper to grasp for straws. "I had it on decent authority that he was in charge of bringing the payload."

"Hey! I wasn't done talking!" Tatsumaki could only shout as Saitama spoke over her to answer the question.

"Ah, apparently there was a small spillage on the way over, so Genos ran back to town to get more food. Something about 'restoring his honor' or whatever…"

"Are you two even hearing me?!" An angry voice continued to pipe next to them.

"He should be up here later in the evening." Saitama finished.

"I see…" Bang put a thoughtful finger to his chin. "I suppose even if he doesn't make it, we still have enough refreshments to keep everyone coming happy."

" _HELLOOOOOOO!"_

The two men winced at the impact of her abrupt shout. "Ugh…well _almost_ everyone…" Saitama muttered with rolled eyes.

"What is it, Tatsumaki?" Bang asked, hoping that appealing to her calmly would quiet her rage.

"What is it?! I'm trying to talk to you and you guys keep ignoring me! Am I invisible? Huh?!"

"You're not inaudible, that's for sure. Pipe down already…" Saitama almost moaned out his command to her. "Look, you had the whole trip up here to talk to me, and all we did was fight. Don't you ever get tired of fighting?"

"Don't act so innocent! You fired at me plenty of times too, baldy!"

"Yep." Saitama replied while proceeding to slip off his shoes. "Your sparkling personality just brings that right out in people, doesn't it…"

Seeing that the ending to this dispute wasn't fast approaching without his help, Bang cut in to try and steer the discussion in a different direction. "Ahem…anyways. One of my junior partners is already here, but we're still waiting on the other. I surmise she'll catch up shortly, because from what I hear, she's quite the live wire."

"Neato. Is it safe to head inside?" Saitama asked him, straightening the boots he shed against the side of the wall.

The elder motioned towards the interior. "By all means. We just got everything fixed up. Mind the slip though; I had the floors newly waxed."

Tatsumaki's face turned to panic as she watched Saitama prepare to step through the doorway. "W-Wait a minute…" She reached out weakly towards him. After all the time she wasted climbing up here with that idiot, it would be nothing short of deplorable if nothing got accomplished out of it.

Saitama stopped halfway through and stared back at her blankly. "Hm?"

"Eh…I…"

Still, knowing she had unfinished business with him did nothing to help her understand where to start back up. Even she had to admit that her verbal skirmishes with him had been nothing but a bunch of airy beats around the bush. She hated that about herself, but her only other defense in the situation was to run away, and her pride wouldn't allow that a second time.

"Well, I just…" The words refused to coalesce in her brain. Even if they would, hesitance already had her tongue tied down. "…that is…I was hoping to…"

"Talk?" He asked.

"Tch! Don't go finishing other people's sentences like that! It's creepy!" She chastised.

He gave her an unimpressed look. "Well excuse me for being creepy. Look, I'm starving, so I'm going inside."

"Well…! Fine! B-But I meant what I said! Don't expect me to go in chasing after you!"

"Wouldn't dream of it." He replied flippantly. "Have fun out here."

"U-Ugh…" The two men watched her helplessly stiffen up and stare uncomfortably at the open door as if anticipating it to try and eat her.

"For heaven's sake, Tatsumaki…" Bang chimed in, "It's my ancestral stomping ground, not the gate to Hades. Just come on inside and have some food. You've come all this way, and you're skinny as a rail."

"I'm not your granddaughter, Silver Fang. I just…I don't do parties, that's all…" She resisted the invitation, putting up a front to keep from appearing too nervous. The sad truth was that she couldn't even recall the last time she had entered another person's private residence. It may have been never. She revered hearth and home as a sanctuary, and with that value in mind, entering another person's home made her feel…at a disadvantage.

The older man sighed. If this was how sociable she was at the prime of her life, he couldn't _wait_ to see how she'd turn out by the time she was his age. Of course, on the rather slim chance he wasn't dead by then…

"C'mon, what're you afraid of?" Saitama asked her, vouching to stick around and lean up against the doorframe with his arms crossed.

"Afraid? I'm not afraid of anything!" Tatsumaki resented.

"Then there shouldn't be a problem."

Tatsumaki straightened her face with conviction. "I said no and I meant _no._ "

Saitama gave her a frown, and even for as limited as his expressions seemed to be, this one had clear disappointment written all over it. Despite herself, she found that seeing him look that way towards her made her feel a hint of shame. As if _she_ was the one who had to prove herself and not him; the exact reversal of why she approached him in the first place.

Suddenly, a new and much younger voice came from inside the dojo to fill the awkward silence on the front porch.

"Silver Fang-sama sir~!" The voice of a girl called out to him. "I finished setting up the dishes! What do you need me to do next?"

A gentle smile cropped up from beneath his white mustache as Bang turned towards the door to address where the voice came from. "Yes, very good. Could you come this way? I have some special folks out here for you to introduce yourself to."

The echo of small footsteps pattered across the hardwood floor, drawing closer and closer to their waiting location. Eventually the young creature had reached the door, the light revealing her features as she stepped out into the afternoon sun.

Tatsumaki's eyes widened with startle for a second before narrowing at what she wore. It was a black business suit with a matching tie and white undershirt – Blizzard Group standard issue.

The girl looked to barely be in her teens. Her fair-skinned face was every bit as young as her boss's older sister's. She peered curiously around at the two newcomers with innocent blue eyes – one of which was hidden behind her neatly swept hair. She wore it black with a single sky-blue highlight that ran clear from the front of her bangs all the way back and down her long ponytail. A distinguished white flower crowned the top of her head as the obvious crux that held her whole hairstyle together.

Upon spotting the esper floating in front of her, she regarded Tatsumaki with small surprise. "Ah…! Aren't you…Boss Fubuki's…"

The green-haired girl's face went sour at the prospect of being approached by yet another of her sister's underlings. It was becoming evident that fate had a twisted sense of humor.

"I've seen your face in the newspaper." The younger girl told her, eying her with deadly suspicion. "You're quite famous, aren't you."

"Let me just speed this up and tell you that anything you heard or read about me is probably true." Tatsumaki told her, clearly disinterested in stretching this introduction longer than it needed to go.

"Not all of it…" The girl corrected her, taking a step forward without breaking the lock on their glaring eyes.

Tatsumaki held her space, silently daring this girl to try and attack. Enough time had gone by since their scrape that Fubuki might have already issued a warning to her little club to be on the lookout for meanie-headed sisters. Fuck cellphones.

"Care to elaborate on that?" Tatsumaki asked with a hint of spice.

"Yes." The girl answered, undeterred. She stopped her advance directly in front of her, looking slightly up as Tatsumaki's levitation caused the esper to appear taller – just the way she preferred to. "I've got your face memorized." The well-dressed girl informed her with a stoic, lifeless expression. She may have been young, but something about her made her seem plenty tough, and that sentiment was coming from Tatsumaki – an authority on the matter.

"Yeah?" The esper regarded her coldly. "And?"

"And standing face-to-face with you now – even though I've already seen you in the papers…"

Almost faster than Tatsumaki could predict, the girl dashed up at her and grabbed her by the hand.

"The pictures don't do your face justice!" The girl's eyes literally sparkled with captivation as she cradled Tatsumaki's petite hand between the two of hers ever so reverently. "You're so pretty, Tatsumaki-sama! You're definitely worthy of being Boss Fubuki's big sis!"

"Eh…?" The object of her affection had utterly no clue what to say to her. There were two parts to her confusion:

The first was that she couldn't tell for sure if she was serious or messing with her. Was she prompted to blush, or tell this girl to go fuck herself?

The second was that whether it was earnest or not, no one in her life had ever called Tatsumaki pretty – certainly not another female. This was shaping up to be one hell of a weird day.

"Umm…thanks?" The esper muttered, pulling her hand from the stranger's affectionate grasp.

"Please! Think nothing of it, it's true! _Oh!_ " The girl covered her mouth with her hands, suddenly remembering something important. "I'm sorry, I must've left my manners with my other pants!" She joked playfully. "Fang-sama sent me out here to introduce myself, and here I am, fangirling all over the place, ahaha~!"

"Please, you can just call me Bang, like I mentioned before." The man standing behind her insisted politely.

"And I'm Lily!" The flower-haired girl tugged a thumb up towards herself, giving the two other heroes a charming smile. "I don't know how familiar you are with your sister's group, Tatsumaki-sama, but I'm one of its members. Sooo…" She dragged off for a second, as if trying to figure something out, "I guess you can sorta kinda say that I'm like…your niece!"

Tatsumaki's jaw dropped. "My fucking _what?!_ "

"Oh but I absolutely idolize your sister! She's like another mom to me! Oh, haha, please don't tell her I said that – soooo embarrassing~"

"Oho-kay, well _this_ conversation's over~" The esper replied awkwardly, feeling no inkling of desire to pick up any new family members – and _especially_ no desire to talk about her sister right now.

Lily turned around to regard the other guest. "Hi!" She smiled up at Saitama.

"Hi." He returned his own simple version of the smile. "Actually, you're pretty cute yourself. How old are you, kid?"

Bang slipped behind him and delivered a tepid karate chop right on top of the bald hero's dome. "Saitama, that's a rude thing to ask a lady."

"Aw."

Lily giggled. "It's okay. I get that question a lot, and I understand why. Next to Child Emperor, I'm probably the youngest hero on the entire roster!" She shut one of her eyes in a wink and flashed him a two-fingered peace sign. "Fourteen strong!"

Saitama almost spat up in reaction. "F-Fourteen?!"

"Ha ha." Tatsumaki snickered with amusement while pointing an accusing finger at him. "Pedophile."

"Seriously?! For asking a question?!" The bald hero snapped back at her.

"For calling her cute."

"So? I've called bunny rabbits cute too!"

"With that creepy smile? Psh. Whatever, lolicon…"

"Said the loli."

" _You wanna take this outside?!"_

"We _are_ outside!"

"Jerk-off!"

"Short stack!"

Bang closed his eyes tiredly. "Now, now, let's all settle down. We're here to make new friends, not new enemies…" He ambled up to Tatsumaki to get a better look at her. "Are you sure you won't be joining us?"

"What?" Lily chirped up. "Of course she's joining us! She has to! You have to join us for dinner, Auntie-sama!"

" _Auntie_ -sama?" Tornado showed her namesake when her face literally twisted into a look of repulsion, wondering what god or demon she angered to deserve such insult to her age.

"Yeah…" Saitama must have caught her reaction, because he piled on with a mischievous glint in his eye that the esper did not like _one bit._ "Don't be a wet blanket. Come along, _**Auntie.**_ "

A huge vein cropped up on her cheek to accommodate the madness in her twitching eye. _'This motherfucker…'_

Saitama folded his hand into a fist and waved it up and down like a metronome to accompany his chant: "Do-it and you're-cool. Do-it and you're-cool. Do-it and you're-cool…"

Tatsumaki shut her eyes trying to suppress the urge to succeed where the bomb on that train had failed:

Explode and take half of Z-City with her.

' _Don't join in, don't join in, don't join in; I swear on my mother's grave if either of you assholes join his stupid chant—'_

"Ahaha~ Do-it and you're-cool!" Lily's smile was bright and innocent, participating as Saitama picked up on the tempo to goad the esper further. "Do-it and you're-cool!"

Tatsumaki gave the two cheering brats a soulless, glassy-eyed stare before turning it to look over at the cliff's ledge. _'I wonder if a drop from this height would kill me…'_

Bang carefully observed the spectacle from the side. Apart from apparently getting Tatsumaki to contemplate suicide, it seemed that their childish antic might actually have a chance to pay off.

' _Eh…what the heck.'_ He shrugged submissively. _'If you can't beat 'em? Join the ones who can.'_

"Do-it and you're-cool! Do-it and you're-cool!"

Tatsumaki dropped her jaw at the wild sight that not just one – nor two – but _three_ diseased cunts now unified against her in this humiliating display.

In a rare show of vulnerability, Tatsumaki covered her face with both hands to staunch the blush that threatened to spread. She fortified herself against the command that came at her in ceaseless waves. After ten or fifteen more repetitions, the last of the green goddess's defenses finally dissolved.

"Fucking peer pressure—FINE. FINE YOU SHITHEADS." She raised her voice dryly to ensure that they all heard her over the noise they were already making. "I'LL JOIN YOUR STUPID DINNER. NOW CALM THE FUCK DOWN."

They did.

"Yaaaay us~" Lily celebrated with a small series of tiny claps. "We caught Auntie!"

"Jeez…" Tatsumaki muttered with a facepalm, embarrassed to even be associated with these jokers. When she took her hand off her forehead, she turned to address Bang. "I expected that shit from kids, Silver Fang. But just how old are _you?_ "

The elder shrugged at her, hiding a grin beneath his mustache. "As young as I feel?"

"Har har." Her eyebrows lowered into an unamused visage.

She floated silently past the heroes, stopping only for a moment when she reached Saitama.

"A palpable hit, douchebag," she commended bitterly with her face leaned in a few inches from his, "but this game might not end as fast as you want it to. So wipe that shit-eating grin off your face."

He continued to watch her drift by, and when he saw that she was about to pass the door, she was surprised to hear him protest.

"Eh- _HEM._ " He cleared his throat, causing her to arch her back as she halted her advance.

"Ugh, what?!" She called back in annoyance. "I'm invited in, _aren't_ I?"

She watched him shake his bald head and point down at his shoe-relieved feet.

When she realized where he was going with the gesture, her shoulders dropped into a slump. "Oh, you've gotta be kidding me. You're stopping me for _that?_ "

"Of course I'm stopping you for that." Saitama replied. "Whose barn were you born in?"

"Saitama…" Bang stepped in and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "It's really alright. No need to—"

"No, no…" Saitama replied without taking his eyes off of the psychic in front of him. "Manners are made for everyone – even wizards."

"I'm an esper!"

"Well I'm sure manners are made for…whatever those are too."

"Come _on,_ I'll just be levitating the whole time, so why should I have to remove my damn shoes for it?"

"Because you're a dignified S-Class hero, here to set an example for the younger generation?" He announced in a disgustingly heroic voice, gesturing to Lily for reference.

"I'm a hero to fight crime, not help run an etiquette school." Tatsumaki clarified.

"What's wrong?" He grinned. "Foot fungus?"

She growled at him. This guy was really pushing it. But for how far they're sending her already, she supposed it didn't matter nearly as much if she did this too. Besides, she could just tell herself that this was more for Bang than for… _him._

"Hmph!" She roughly kicked off her black shoes, letting them float harmlessly around her. "There. No shoes. Ya happy?"

He smiled softly. "After you, madame."

"Tch. Don't patronize me…" She turned up her nose at him with a sneer before continuing to glide towards the entrance.

Watching her go, Saitama leaned closer to Lily with a devilish grin, and cuffing a secretive hand next to his face to keep Tatsumaki from overhearing, he whispered to the other girl,

"Something smells~"

 **=THWACK=**

Out of nowhere, one of the esper's shoes pelted his head with the same force as a high-caliber bullet. "Oof!"

He looked over to see Tatsumaki facing him, poised and ready to launch the other shoe.

Shooting him one last death glare, she curtly flipped him off and disappeared into the dojo.

"Fricken crazy little fascist…" He muttered under his breath.

"We better join her in there…" Bang spoke up from behind them, "…before my star pupil does or says something to her that gets him killed."

"Unless he's armed with silver bullets and holy water…she'll probably do it anyway." Saitama concluded, rubbing his head.

The small group of three proceeded to move up towards the building with Saitama and Lily in front and Bang taking up the rear.

"Soooo what's your name again?" Lily asked.

"Saitama." He answered.

"What's that literally translate to?" She inquired with curiosity.

"I…I really have no clue…"

As they passed through the double doors, Bang surveyed the outside area one last time before pulling them shut behind him.

* * *

"Aight, buddy, listen up, 'cuz I'm only gonna go over this once." Metal Bat pointed his signature weapon all around him. "This's my neighborhood. Kinda dingy, I know, but it's home, so you'll hafta suck it up."

He marched with a flippant gait down the street of the urban hub with his bulky animal-like partner in tow. Pandaman was silently taking everything in through two glowing dots encircled in black. At his broad size, he moved in a manner that could only be described as a waddle, and had a bindle slung over his shoulder which he gripped with a seemingly fingerless paw.

"Over that way's Dandī Drive, where my sis and I usually go down to the bodegas for all our chow. I'm usually the one that cooks, but she's learnin' how to do it too…"

" **RUH-rAWr ROAH?"** It was amazing how much like the real animal the growls sounded. But it also freaked Metal Bat out a little.

"Okay, dude – we ain't gonna have much long conversations if ya keep talkin' like that…"

" **RAWWW…"**

"Are ya screwin' with me? Ya _do_ speak Japanese, right? Or…are ya just screwin' with me?"

" **UuuRF."** It came out as a snort.

"Ugh, ya weird bastard…"

Metal Bat sighed and did a doubletake between the two opposite sides of the street before deciding to cross. Sure it was a rundown shithole of a neighborhood – but like he just mentioned, it was _his_ rundown shithole. With the money he made as an S-Class, he understood that he could easily move someplace nicer, but he was saving bank to get his sister enrolled in university. It may yet be a few good years down the road, but he would settle for nothing less than the best ivy-league school in the Alphabet – and you'd best believe they wouldn't exactly take peanuts for price of admission.

"Down _that_ street…" The jock hero directed the panda creature with his metal stick, "is Shinrin Avenue. But I just call it 'Roadkill Road,' because I seen pretty much one of every kinda dead animal on it."

" _ **RuuuUUHH?"**_

The athletic man shrugged his shoulders, guessing at where his partner's concerns lay. "Nah, I don't think I ever seen a dead _panda_ there before. Let's try to keep it that way, hey buddy?" The two continued along a square of demolished pavement and rounded a corner. "Back over there is Akutō Alley. Lotta' bad shit happens there, so unless you're either fixin' to buy some hard drugs or get your anus stretched wider than the Grand Canyon, I suggest ya steer clear."

The tour continued on for a good ten minutes or so, with Metal Bat teaching Pandaman which places had the best grocery prices, which places he would probably get shot and turned into taxidermy, and which places with names like ' _Buns & Pussies Galore'_ were in fact _not_ establishments that sell cute rabbits and kittens.

"And finally…" Metal Bat proudly announced, turning one last corner, "this's the block where I have my home-sweet—ah shit they're back…" His shoulders sagged with dread as he spotted a trio of hoodlums hanging out just on the stretch of sidewalk that separated the heroes from Bat's front porch. "You wait here." He commanded the black and white bear. "Lemme go take care a' this real quick…"

With one hand dug deep into his baggy pocket and the other resting the baseball bat over his shoulder, the pro hero shuffled his way up to the rough-looking bunch leaning against the brick walls and mailbox.

The biggest of the thugs – easily a head taller than Metal Bat – was the first to notice his approach. He wore his hair in a vividly purple mohawk and had a few more facial piercings than you'd hope he would. "Well look who we got here, boys." He grinned with viper-like teeth. "Lil' _Miss Batsy's_ comin' home – from some _serious_ super hero stuff, I bet."

"Hey, you beat up any bad guys today, champ?" One of his friends followed up, looking more weaselly than intimidating like the others.

Metal Bat regarded them with cold eyes – as if staring right through them.

"Ey, look over there, Diesel…" The third thug pointed towards Pandaman, who was standing behind a lamppost…apparently making a rather unsuccessful attempt to hide. "Looks like he brought a new pet for that cute little sister of his…"

Metal Bat grinded his teeth sharply behind a closed mouth at the mention of his sister by one of these lowlives.

"Pah-ha, you dumbass!" The ruffian they called Diesel spat profanely. "That's obviously his new squeeze! I mean _wow,_ Bats. I took you for a faggot…but not a _fur_ faggot!"

"Guess we shoulda' seen it comin'." Another of his friends chuckled. "He puts so much gel into that hornet's nest of hair, his standards for finding love obviously hit rock-bottom!"

"Oi, Pompadour! I'll give ya five bucks if ya let me pet your girlfriend! That's more than I'm sure you're paying that animal to fuck you, am I right?"

"Gahaha nice one, Grease!"

Metal Bat's eyebrow twitched impatiently while he waited for these hyenas to finish their daffy guffaws. Obviously the run-down neighborhood flavor wasn't complete without its share of pleasant characters. Metal Bat had known these guys for years now. He cleaned their clocks on an average of pretty much every other week, but as one would guess, you couldn't cure true stupidity – no matter how many times you took a traumatic blunt instrument to it. Having no education to speak of, this trio of trouble looked to Metal Bat as their primary life educator…

And now they were here for their free lesson.

"Mmmmmm…"

Lifting the baseball bat up from his shoulder, he pointed it at each of them while casually calling out positions.

"First base…" He moved the pointed bat over to the next thug. "Second base…" He moved on to look at the final target. "…Third base."

"The hell you think you're doin', baseball boy?" Diesel scoffed.

"Nuthin'." Metal Bat casually raised his eyebrows. "Just decidin' whose face I'm gonna step on first."

Diesel clenched his teeth with irrepressible aggravation. Balling his large hand up into a fist, he threw it back and charged at the hero like an angry bull. "Like HELL you are!"

Before the crook even saw which direction it came from, a razor-sharp pain pranged into his hip, doing everything short of shattering the bone.

"GUH-GWAGHH!" The momentum the man was using to run caused him to fly forward and dive straight into sidewalk, skidding on it for a good few feet. He curled up into a ball, writhing in pain as he clutched his injured side. "F-Fuckin' shit, man…!" The thug almost sobbed the words out. "I think sumthin' broke…!"

Without even entertaining the remark, Metal Bat was quick to lay into "Second base," this time crashing into the smaller delinquent with a debilitating headbutt. The force sent the guy flying backwards into the side of a car, cracking the windows and setting off the alarm.

The last troublemaker standing actually managed to get a cheap shot in from behind, delivering a jab to the back of Bat's head. The guy let off a cocky smirk until the hero turned around and showed him what face he was making.

Metal Bat's eyes burned with righteous fury, and when the attacker went in for a second hit, the hero parried his fist with the bat, following up with a hard stomp against his knee. The thug screamed in agony as the spikes of Bat's shoe sank into his leg and peeled down his shin like a banana.

The guy would be able to walk okay, but there was a hefty chance that he'd do so with quite a mark.

Standing before the three to revel in their pained groans, Metal Bat hoisted his weapon back into its resting position on his shoulder, raising his voice to compete with the car alarm that continued to blare.

"Aight, ya buncha' dicklicks! Y'all know the routine! Time to limp home and let Mama kiss it all better! If I catch ya around my dugout again…!" He delivered a thunderous smash against the car making the noise, causing the siren to moan tragically before dying out. "…the next thing that gets 'dug out' will be my size-nine cleats outta your jail-broken bungholes." He seethed threateningly, causing the beaten men to shiver. "Now get outta here."

The two less crippled of the jerks staggered over to hoist Diesel off the concrete, and together, they proceeded to shamble away.

"FASTER LADIES!" Metal Bat struck a nearby fire hydrant with a powerful homerun swing, causing water to spew up. The trio – injured as they seemed – scattered like roaches with the lights on.

Confident that those idiots wouldn't be back for a while yet, Metal Bat turned and motioned Pandaman to come out from his 'hiding place.'

"Home Base." Metal Bat stated triumphantly, tapping the top step of his porch with the tip of his weapon. "So anyways," he spoke as if nothing had happened. "this's my pad. Sis should be home from school by now. Speakin' a' which, ya see that wall right there?" He pointed to the brick structure right next to the door.

The humanoid panda nodded frivolously.

"Well, ya try anything funny with my sister, and you're goin' straight _through_ that fuckin' wall."

The panda nodded frivolously again.

"Cool. Ah, and by the by, I think it'd be better if ya wait out here until I get things sorted with her. She's kinda miffed at me for somethin', and I didn't exactly get a chance to let her know that a weird mascot would come livin' with us. So stay put, will ya? It should be just a sec."

" **Ruh-ROAR!"**

Metal Bat gave him a strange look before stepping up to the porch and opening the door.

"Siiiis?" He called into the house in almost a meek whisper. "You home?"

There was no response. Instead, a wicked haze of killing intent permeated the silent air.

' _Ahh yeah, she's here alright…'_ He sweat-dropped.

Kicking off his cleats, he stepped through the hallway and made his way into the small living room. There, lying on her stomach and doing homework on the floor, was the one thing in the world that Metal Bat truly feared.

"H-Hiya, Sis…" He stammered nervously with a half-wave of his hand.

The girl in front of him ignored his greeting. She didn't look up at him. She didn't even blink.

After an awkward two-and-a-half minutes of eerie silence, Big Brother tried again. "Sooo, ehh, how was school today?"

No response.

"…Didja have piano practice today?"

This warranted a mean glare, which she used when she snapped her head to look at him. "Wouldn't _you_ like to know, _**Baddie.**_ "

Her brother closed his eyes in a sharp wince as she got up to leave the room. Uncommon knowledge was that Metal Bat's real name was literally 'Bad,' and his sister took to calling him _'Baddie'_ whenever she was pissed at him.

"C'mon Zenko, ya can't stay mad at me forever…" He tried following her out.

She stopped and spun around to face him. "Yeah? WATCH me."

"Sis, I'm sorry I missed the recital, but you _know_ I had to be at that meeting. I mighta' been _fired_ otherwise!"

She turned away to give him the cold shoulder. "Guess you chose to be fired from being my brother instead!"

He gave her a sad frown. "Ya can't mean that…"

She turned around again to reveal the wetness in her eyes as tears prepared to roll down her cheeks. "Do I _look_ like I don't mean that?..."

His posture shrank at the dismal sight of making his sister cry. "Sis, I…"

His eyes popped open when he spotted something moving behind her. His jaw dropped as he helplessly watched Pandaman's overtly plump shape waddle across the hall and into the kitchen.

"Hm…?" Zenko snuffled, giving him a puzzled look before starting to turn and look over her shoulder at where he was facing.

"Ahhjajaa—!" He fought to get her attention away from the animal anomaly that came rolling in. "IIIIIII was just ssssayin' how 'bout we hit the town this weekend! I'll take ya out to Mouse Sushi! It's your favorite restaurant in the world, right~?"

"Huh?" She blinked quizzically. "But…that's all the way in S-City."

"I don't care!" He kneeled down and grabbed her overdramatically by the shoulders. "If my lil' sis wants it, It'll definitely happen! I'll take time off. For real this time, I swear!"

"Nii-chan, you can't fix this with food. I'll never forgive you! Neverevereverever!"

"But I—"

A noisy crash rang from the kitchen, causing the two to jump.

"What was that?" Zenko shouted. "A burglar?!"

Bad was at a loss of what to say. Sensing his hesitation, the girl hustled over to grab her own baseball bat – although her particular version happened to be hollowed out plastic that weighed in at less than a pound.

"Whoever it is…" she started, holding up the toy weapon menacingly, "they picked the _worst_ possible time to break in. I'm in…a really _bad_ mood. Stay put, Baddie, and keep a safe distance: I'm about to wild out and throw."

"Zenko, wait!" He reached out to try and stop her, but she already went charging into the kitchen, brandishing her bat samurai-style.

He ran to catch up to her, arriving in the next room just in time to see his sister drop her 'weapon' in shock. The two stood still, watching a clearly hungry Pandaman rummage through their refrigerator. Setting his sights on a cabbage roll, the costumed monster proceeded to nibble at it through his triangular mouth.

Zenko's eyes quivered with unrivaled disbelief. "Oh…Em…Jee…" She covered up her mouth with her hands.

Bad wasn't sure what he was expecting. Her to run off and lock herself in her room? Call the police? Punch her brother in the dick?

But nothing could have prepared him to see her actually run up to the strange creature with her arms spread wide.

"It's sooooooooo _cuuuuuuuuuuute~!_ " She dove into the costumed panda's side, pressing her cheek against the fur. "Soooo warm and soft~"

The beast she was embracing seemed to be utterly unaware of her presence, as he just continued with his munching.

"Yeah, I uhh…" Metal Bat scratched the back of his head. "I've been sorta meanin' to tell ya about him…"

She snapped her head to look back at him, still clinging tightly to the large manimal with a blush on her face. "You brought home a new pet for me as atonement for your sins! Ohhh _thank you,_ Big Bro, thank you so much! I always wanted a panda bear~!"

"I…" Awestruck that this weirdo partner of his had maxed out a social link that Bad hadn't achieved in years, he processed his next words carefully before continuing. "I mean yeah, of course Sis. Whatever ya want…like I was sayin'…"

Zenko, at a fraction of Pandaman's size, had to practically climb up his back like a mountain to get to his head. "You and I are gonna be beeeeest friends! I'll take you to school for Show-and-Tell, and we'll binge-watch Tai-Chi Panda, and…!"

It took Zenko literally half an hour to go through her improvised list of plans with her new companion.

Pandaman, long finished with his meal, adjusted his position to wrap her in a hug from the front, kneading on her shoulders excitedly with his stubby nubby paws.

While a distracted Zenko had her head buried in his chest, he seized the moment to flash his senior partner a smug, starry-eyed stare that seemed to convey one very specific message:

 _This tiny human shall_ _ **never**_ _give you this much love and attention._

Pandaman's beady eyes twinkled with knowing emphasis.

 _ **Never.**_

Defeated, Metal Bat fell to his hands and knees, yielding to the supremacy of large fluffy mammals.

Having had her fill of soft warmth from the cuddle, Zenko finally let go of the mascot and rushed up to her brother.

"I knew you'd find a way to redeem yourself." She told Bad, who was still knelt to the floor. "I love you, Big Bro."

He felt her plant a soft kiss on his cheek before watching her prance out of the room with newfound glee and a blissful skip to her step.

When she was gone, Metal Bat did a quick doubletake at Pandaman, who was still sitting back on his haunches in front of him.

Finding himself utterly outshined and outdistanced, Bad turned his already kneeling position into one of absolute prostration as he choked out a single desperate command to his new partner:

"Teach me your secrets…"

 **A/N: Lawd Almighty! I wasn't actually planning to make a two-parter, but if I didn't, this would've taken like TWICE the forever to upload. I'll try to have this chapter's partner up before Christmas, but just in case it doesn't get there by then, Happy Holidays everyone!**


	7. Martial Arts and an Esper, Pt II

Disclaimer: **I do not own One-Punch Man.**

 **Chapter 7: Martial Arts and an Esper, Part II**

Tatsumaki leisurely glided all around the interior of the dojo, taking in all the sights that the place had to offer. Which was to say: pretty much none.

The place was almost completely empty. Sure she was no fan of messy clutter, but the amount of wasted space there was in relation to the lack of things to fill it almost made the esper agoraphobic. The structure was just as old-fashioned on the inside as it appeared on its outside. Having been said, there didn't seem to be a single part of the abode that was comprised of anything other than wood. The walls were made up of simple planks set together to panel the base in long rows. Even the doors were designed the same. Apparently little details like wallpaper and carpeting were luxuries that eluded Silver Fang. To each their own...

The only feature she really found that gave the dojo any sort of character was a plaque on an overhead wall that had the message **"ADVANCE FEARLESSLY TOWARDS ONE'S GOAL"** inscribed in obnoxiously bold kanji. What a sad joke.

While she continued to observe the lonely plaque, Saitama made himself right at home by proceeding to nonchalantly slide along the slick surface of the waxed flooring, almost as if it were an ice-skating rink. Charanko and Lily busied themselves with the finishing touches for the refreshment table, which consisted of a hotpot, and a bunch of various ingredients and side dishes. To the side of the large room, two low table were merged together, set up with a bunch of tatami mats evenly situated to one side, assuring that everyone seated would face away from the wall and out to the main floor.

To Tatsumaki, something about this arrangement seemed a bit _too_ deliberate. What was the old geezer up to?

She didn't have much time to speculate on Bang's intentions, because the front doors slammed open, causing everyone inside to jump.

A hurried cyborg was revealed at the entrance, hoisting a large box on one of his shoulders.

"I have arrived!" Genos loudly announced his presence to the company inside. "I apologize for making all of you wait!"

Bang turned around to face him, closing his eyes with a welcoming smile. "Always better late than never. It's good to see you again, boy."

"God, were you hoping to kick the door down? You scared the crap out of me, man..." Charanko uttered, holding a hand to his racing heart.

"Nice to meet you!" Lily announced bubbly.

Genos gave the martial artists a respectful nod before turning to face Saitama. "Master! I have done it! I have retrieved adequate substitutes for the crabs that I..." He paused to carefully pick out the right word to use. "...misplaced on the train."

"Good going, Genos." Saitama replied with a casual smile. "Hearing that almost makes me not wanna punch you for leaving me alone with _'She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named'_..."

"I'm right here, you know..." Tatsumaki huffed at him as she flew in closer.

"Hm? What?" Saitama played it off innocently. "What makes you think I was referring to you?"

"Because out of everyone else, you're the only one still too retarded to pronounce my name firsthand." She replied harshly. "I wasn't born yesterday. I know when wise-asses are gossiping about me."

At the notice of the temperamental creature that had habitually catapulted him all over Creation, Genos narrowed his eyes into a cold, soulless leer. "What is...that...doing here..." He asked this as if he were addressing a parasitic worm writhing its way out of a pustule.

Tatsumaki's jaw dropped at his word choice. "Did you just call me a _'_ _That?!'_ We went over this! I told you I'm not an object!"

Saitama shrugged. "Well, after you left, she begged me to let her come along after hearing there was food. In fact, she was so weak from starvation that I had to carry her all the way up here. Isn't that sad?"

As if it was even possible, the esper's jaw dropped even lower, and she let out a huge gasp at the obvious lie. "Wha—I—are you…! You can't…!" It took several seconds for her to calm down enough to form a coherent sentence. "THAT IS _NOT_ TRUE!"

Genos put a finger to his eye, as if trying to staunch a tear. "Master...you are truly a man among men. Doing all of that for something like her. I hope that one day she can benefit from your example and strive to become just like you."

"Okay, now you're just begging to get tossed again!" She replied, stressfully grinding her teeth. "And _you!_ " She snapped towards Saitama, who held his hands up innocently. "Stop bullshitting bullshit about me you...you bullshitter! Did you already forget how hard you guys tried to get me to stay here?!" She frantically looked back at Lily, who was holding a stack of plates and distributing them across the table. "Hey! You were part of this too! Don't just stand there! Say something…!"

"Auntie's right~!" The girl chirped in cheerful agreement.

Tatsumaki smiled triumphantly. "Ha! Did you hear that?! Auntie's—" Her smile immediately dropped into a scowl, and she spun around to raise her fist at the young weapons expert. "...QUIT CALLING ME AUNTIE, YOU DAMN BRAT!"

"Jeez you're loud..." Saitama grumbled, plugging up one of his ears.

"I will just carry this to the table..." Genos concluded passively, approaching the side bar where all the other refreshments were resting. As he set the container on the high surface, he gasped aloud, suddenly remembering something urgent to report. "Ah, may I have everyone's attention!" All heads present turned and looked at him. "For disclosure, I made absolutely certain that all of the crabs are dead this time! I repeat: all crabs are dead! So there is absolutely no need to panic once I undo this package!"

The entire room unanimously blinked at him with shared confusion as to why the Demon Cyborg sounded like he was heralding the grand opening of Pandora's Box.

"Uhhh. Why the hell would we panic over some stupid crabs?" Tatsumaki tiredly questioned him.

"Genos..." Saitama gave him a concerned stare. "You okay, buddy? You're looking a little pale..."

"Do you want to sit down?" Lily added worriedly.

The cyborg, realizing that he was overreacting as a result of some lingering PTSD from the train incident, put a hand over his mouth to feign a cough. "Uhm...please disregard my warning. Th-the point is that I brought crabs. Dead crabs. Crabs that are no longer living. Unliving crabs. Which we will eat. ...Safely."

Tatsumaki turned to the bald hero next to her and gave him a long stare before whispering, "I think your boyfriend's broken."

Saitama capriciously furrowed his brow at her. " _Pf_ _ff_ _._ Genos isn't my boyfriend..."

"Master!" The cyborg shouted from the table. "Would you care for some butter to dip with your portion of meat?"

Saitama's face brightened into a pleasant smile. "Actually yeah I would. Thanks babe."

Maintaining his stoicism, Genos gave him a sharp wink before fishing out a bar of butter to melt in a separate pan.

Tatsumaki did a double take between the two men, her cartoonish face appearing no less than absolutely mortified at the exchange she just witnessed. Deciding to leave it alone, she flew off to look around some more while the others prepared to cook the meal.

"So I noticed something of vague interest on my way here..." Genos stated, placing a glowing palm beneath the pan to heat up the metal.

"Oh? What's that?" Bang asked him, shuffling his way closer.

"A woman. Of very tall, quite muscular stature." The cyborg gazed down at the stick of butter, watching the yellowish block begin to lose its definition. "I happened upon her as I was ascending the stairway."

Bang scratched his chin thoughtfully. "That's probably my other junior. Did you speak to her at all?"

"I did not get the opportunity. I am uncertain if she even noticed me. She would not stop running. She passed me multiple times on my way up here – sixty-eight, to be precise. She appears to be quite fond of using your steps, Silver Fang."

Bang's eyes widened in disbelief. No one knew better than him how long it took to climb up those stairs, let alone descend them...except maybe Charanko. He had his pupil climb up to the dojo every morning as part of a wake-up exercise, and just doing it once caused the boy to practically collapse into a puddle of sweat when he finally got there.

If this other yet-to-be-met junior partner of his could do all that and so much more, then she wasn't just the live wire he told the others about; she was the whole entire powerhouse. Bearing in mind that sheer amount of potential before even training her, Bang was overflowing with eagerness to see what she could really manage under his tutelage.

"Well...I'm sure she'll be in here as soon as she finishes what she's doing out there." Bang turned to stare out at where Tatsumaki continued floating around the ceiling, as if inspecting it to make sure it was safe. "Anyway..." He spoke just as much to himself as to the cyborg preparing the food next to him. "I wonder what the association was thinking...matching him up with _her._ "

"From what I have witnessed already," Genos responded without taking eyes off of what he was doing, "the Hero Association seems to follow a strange algorithm of matching up heroes to others that have dissimilar styles and mannerisms. This is only my theory, but perhaps the executive board is hoping that the new arrangement will give the participants a versatile edge in combat coordination by immersing them in their partners' contrasting behavioral patterns. I must confess that I do not entirely believe what Sekingar-sama said about merely wishing to bring heroes closer as a matter of fellowship."

Bang closed his eyes to think about what the cyborg said. "Your assessment sounds reasonable to me. It is rather far-fetched to think that two people as different as Saitama and Tatsumaki would ever exactly wind up _married_ to each other _._ If the association's plan was as cut-and-dry as trying to promote bonds, they would have placed all of us with more like-minded people..."

The two looked out at the open floor just in time to see Saitama nonchalantly grab onto Tatsumaki's ankles as he surfed across the slippery floor, greatly startling the esper and causing her to shoot in the opposite direction. As he still clung to the spooked sprite, the bald hero effortlessly slid right along with her as she flew, turning the event into some sort of deranged version of kite skiing. It was painfully apparent that Saitama had grown bored – and that he expected everyone else to know it too.

Genos and Bang gave the two of them the same uncomfortable look as the latter went on to say, "My other suspicion is that the staff in charge somehow realizes that Saitama may yet be the only person who is capable of handling Tatsumaki's fits of rage." He motioned out to where a rather miffed esper was now hanging off of Saitama's shoulders from behind, locking her legs around his neck and angrily chewing at his ear in retaliation for the joy ride. As just about always, the hairless hero remained totally disinterested at what was happening.

"Sensei can definitely take anything she can throw at him." Genos agreed. "An entire mob of people rallied against my master once. Nothing breaks him. But my primary concern is that he does not seem to fully realize how unworthy of his time that the Tornado of Terror really is." The cyborg's frustrated grip on the pan's handle caused the iron to groan beneath his fingers. "She is a beast. An absolute beast."

"There there now, Genos," Bang lightly cautioned him with a calming hand gesture, "whenever I encounter someone unpleasant throughout my life, the first things I ask myself are the questions hardly anyone thinks to ask: 'Did this person have a bad day?' 'What kind of life has this person led up to this moment that causes them to regard others this way?' 'Were they hurt? Betrayed?'"

Genos chose to loosen his grip on the poor metal instrument before he bent the handle out of shape, closing his eyes to let out a dismayed sigh before pouring the liquid contents of the pan into a waiting bowl nearby.

"Putting yourself in another person's shoes isn't always the easiest thing in the world." Bang admitted. "It doesn't just take practice. It takes living. Decades of it." He turned back to watch the two younger heroes as Tatsumaki continued shouting copious unpleasantries at her egg-headed target, who didn't even seem to be focused on her. "We may never quite know what made Tatsumaki the way that she is. And that's okay. But if there even exists such a way for her to loosen up, perhaps we should feel safe trusting Saitama – the way that the Hero Association already seems to." He looked over his shoulder back at the cyborg, who seemed to be deep in thought. "...Don't you think?"

Genos grabbed a crab out of the box and proceeded stripping the carapace of its meat. "...I do trust Sensei. With everything I have."

Bang let out a hidden grin from beneath his mustache. "I know."

Suddenly, the front double doors burst open for the second abrupt time, causing everyone to give the newcomer their united attention. This time, the sudden noise of the doors being slammed startled Charanko so much that he fell over, dropping a box full of ramekins and saucers in the process. "Oh my gaaaaaawd, _seriously?!_ " He put a hand to his chest, holding his jumping heart. "We need to install a doorbell or something..." His complaints died out quickly, replaced with speechlessness when he laid his eyes on who was passing through.

"Hah...hah…PHEW...!" The silhouette of the stout figure was audibly panting as she powered straight past the entrance, busily washing her glistening face off with a small towel. "A successful one-hundred reps up and down the stairs, and Captain Mizuki comes crashing into the battle!" The new woman in the dojo struck an athletic pose, flexing her impressive muscles before concluding her victory cry. "World Star!"

She let out an exultant chuckle as she approached the center of the room, slinging the towel over her shoulders as she moved in to greet the other heroes.

As was to be expected, the one to call herself Captain Mizuki was built like an absolute machine – even when you compare her with someone like Genos who pretty much already _was_ one. Somehow, someway, the youthful woman managed to strike a textbook balance between being stacked _and_ packed. In fact, she had so much muscle density that Charanko had hung his mouth open on sight of her – feeling emasculated just by witnessing the body definition that he simply didn't come close to possessing.

However, despite her figure being anything but girly, it didn't do much to take away from her natural beauty. Aside from some residual grime from her rigid exercise and a small band aid stuck to her left cheek, she actually had the complexion of a supermodel. Her long dark orange hair was tied up in a high ponytail bound by a scrunchie, revealing the simple golden earrings accommodating her look. Much like Lily's, Mizuki's eyes were touched by the lightest tinge of blue, which also seemed to carry a certain air of innocence with them. This trait held equal footing with the confidence imbuing her smile.

She didn't seem that shy about freeing up some skin, either. There wasn't much she wore in the way of clothing; a tight, form-fitting spandex top coupled with a corresponding bottom quite effectively exposed her six-pack. Her matching articles had a single white stripe riding down each side, as well as the initials "MZK" boldly set on the front. The navy blue color of her apparel might have been a bit more vibrant if it wasn't spattered in dirt from her laborious activities. From her neck hung three distinct golden medallions stacked on top of each other with identical lanyards.

The other occupants in the room were a bit put off by the amount of dust trailing behind her as the girl strode inside with her tennis shoes still on, blissfully unaware of the mess she was making.

The first person Mizuki came up to was Bang. When she stopped in front of him, the athlete propped herself up straight and stood at attention like a soldier, giving him an overly formal salute. "'Sup, Coach!" Stiffly throwing her hand back down to her side, she transformed the gesture into a pliant bow. "It's awesome to finally meet you and stuff! Super sorry I got here so late! I had, like, all this excited energy pent up, and I'm afraid I had to take it out on your stairs!"

Bang raised a bushy white eyebrow at her, amused by her otherworldly stance on ceremony. "So I heard." He replied. "It warms my heart to know that they're getting some use out of them. Then I trust you had no trouble finding the place?"

"Nnnnnope!" She gave him a large, toothy grin. "But wow _,_ I'm _crazy_ _stoked_ about how high up we are! Like, can I use your stairs in the mornings and evenings too?!"

Bang closed his eyes and replied with a pleasant tone. "You may use them as often as you'd like. Maybe some of that fire in your belly will even catch onto my star pupil and ignite his spirit too."

Not hearing the grunt of dismay coming from Charanko off to the side, her eyes lit up in a bright twinkle. "Sweet! Thanks, Coach! I really like the location of your gym! And also..." She peered up over her shoulder, noticing the same plaque that Tatsumaki had earlier. "I also really like that message hanging up there!" She happily pointed up at it. "Just reading it gets me all fired up! It's like crazy super ultra motivating!"

Bang scratched his cheek in humble response to the flattery. "Ohoho… You really think so? My star pupil never even seemed to notice it when I put it up, so I was actually thinking about tearing it down..."

"Nuuuuuuu, dun du daaaaaat~" She clapped her hands together while giving her plea a baby-like pronunciation.

As Charanko watched the exchange from the side, said star pupil did not like the direction this conversation was headed, so he moved in to cut it off.

"Excuse me, but this is a _dojo,_ not a gym." He corrected her semantic with a jagged tone. "I don't expect you to stay for that long, but while you're with us, please at _least_ be sure you can get _that_ much right. And take your filthy shoes off! Can't you see that you brought half of our zen garden inside with you?!"

Mizuki turned to face the martial arts student with an airy stare that seemed to pass right through him.

His teacher gave him a disappointed look. She hasn't been here for even a minute, and his disciple had already decided to alienate her? "Charanko, there's no need to be so—"

"WHOA dude! Your hair! It's orange!" Mizuki pointed at his head in total alarm.

Charanko gave her a puzzled look. "Uhhh, yeah? So?..."

"But..." The athlete hero grabbed a tuft of her own hair to examine it, as if to make sure it was still the same color she thought it was. "But... _my_ hair is orange..." She returned a suspicious squint at the martial arts student, who was growing more and more confused with each word to come out of her mouth. In a show of intense concentration, the girl had both pointer fingers pressed against her head to help her process the information. "But...that can only mean..." She pointed at him to blurt out in wide-eyed astonishment, "My _**LONG LOST FATHER?!**_ "

Everyone in the room flared up in surprise at her conclusion, but none more so than the boy accused, whose face dropped several pallets in color.

"...What…?" Charanko croaked weakly.

Before anything more could be done, Mizuki rushed him with monstrous speed, bulldozing headlong into his carcass and sweeping him clear up off the floor in a bone-crushing bear hug. "Uwwaaaa! So...so this is where you've been all this time~?! Waaaah!" She bawled hysterically, seemingly unaware of the crunching sound that Charanko's bones were making as her embrace tightened. "You call yourself a man?! H-How could you leave your wife and kid to fend for themselves like that? Mama told me that you were on a business trip every time I asked about you on Christmas! You're cheating on her, aren't you~?!" Even if the suffocating boy had any oxygen left in his lungs to protest, he didn't have enough time before Mizuki hoisted the remainder of all her weight onto him, wrapping her legs around his torso in a child-like glomp. "Take responsibility!" She sobbed. "Hold me! Hold me the way you should've held me so many times when I was a child! Love me, Daddy!"

Coupled with being smothered, Charanko's spine felt like a toothpick standing to hold up a bowling ball. Having reached his limit, he could have sworn he heard Saitama call out the word "Jenga" as the titanic woman rode him all the way down to the hardwood floor. With his vision blurring in and out, Charanko struggled to stay conscious as the heads of Saitama, Genos, Tatsumaki, Lily, and his sensei all encircled his view.

"Wow. And people think _I'm_ a jerk..." Tatsumaki spoke freely with her arms crossed. "You're just straight up garbage, Shujanko."

' _It's...Charanko...'_ The boy had only the strength to protest in his mind.

"That's a rough one, buddy." Saitama added with a small frown as he pulled out his wallet to look inside. "Need help with child support? I can loan you...one, two, three...four yen, aaaaaaaaand a coupon for 20% off your next purchase of sesame oil at Super Mart. ...Expires tomorrow, just FYI."

' _I'm about to expire **today...** '_

"Perhaps a DNA test will prove your innocence." Genos suggested, holding up a kitchen knife with a nefarious glint in his eye. "If you hold still for a moment, I would be highly willing to cut you."

' _A yandere…?!'_

Charanko's eyes were growing increasingly bloodshot from all the less-than-supportive comments he was receiving from the spectators.

A wave of cold sweat rolled over his face as he struggled to breathe under Mizuki's mass and impossibly strong grip. The light around him was dimming. His body was growing numb. With every last ounce of energy he could muster, he fought with the will to live, attempting one last time to wrest himself out of the athlete's mighty arms. But in the end, he would have had better luck trying to pry open the wings of a stone gargoyle.

Bang heaved out a deep sigh, and wishing not to lose the life of his only regular student over such a simple misunderstanding, the elderly man bent over with one arm harmlessly tucked behind his back, using the other to grab Mizuki by the back of her top and lift her clear off the floor as if she weighed less than air. With her muscular body still wrapped around Charanko, both surprised youths now dangled harmlessly, suspended by none other than Silver Fang's surprising strength.

"I believe you have him confused with someone else." Bang explained. "People don't need to be related to have orange hair, and as you can see, he's roughly the same age as you. Please release my student before he breaks."

Finally realizing her mistake, Mizuki's limbs went limp, allowing Charanko to plop to the floor.

"Agh-ack!" He grunted loudly, hitting the hard surface at the exact same time he tried gasping for air.

"Ooooohhh. That actually kinda makes sense." Mizuki put an innocent finger to her lip while letting herself hang from Bang's grip like a kitten grabbed by the scruff. "After all, he doesn't even _smell_ like me..."

"Your B.O. pretty much makes that a compliment..." Tatsumaki muttered from off to the side.

As Bang let the brick-built girl go, Charanko managed to weakly sit up while rubbing his back. Every square inch of where she clung to him was now sore, and he also noticed that his karate gi, once pure white, was now caked with dirt. "That...crazy monster..." He coughed and wheezed while getting the words out, "...she...she tried to kill me…!"

"I'm sure she meant no harm." Bang defended his new guest. "Besides, that which does not kill you makes you stronger, yes?" He gave his apprentice a light-hearted wink.

Charanko, more than a little hurt that his sensei seemed more willing to defend this stranger than his own disciple, dipped his head meekly while attempting to reclaim his breath. "I'll...I'll remember that, Sensei. Thank you...for the lesson." He murmured.

As he still sat rubbing his abused bones, an outstretched hand came down to meet him at his level. He glanced up at Mizuki, who was bent over and smiling apologetically while offering to help get him off the floor. "Sorry about the weirdness, lil' guy. I get sorta confused sometimes…" She closed her eyes with embarrassment, rubbing the back of her neck with her other hand. "So, like...ummmm...we good?"

The shimmering traces of light in her eyes appeared eager for his understanding and forgiveness. Even Charanko could see that the smile she wore wasn't made at his expense, but rather out of shame and regret the likes of which only an innocent child could express.

If not for the fact that his short life was almost snuffed out by her brutish strength, he might have nearly blushed at the sincerity of her expression, even though he personally preferred dainty girls that were smaller than him and more dependent on his protection. But something about the way she was willing to sweep his near-death experience under the rug like it was nothing caused him some lingering umbrage towards her.

Returning her peace offering with a small glare, Charanko pulled himself up without taking her hand. No way was he about to show any weakness by accepting support from some girl. " _Che._ Whatever." He scoffed distantly. "Just stay away from me. ...Freak."

Taken aback by the cold words, Mizuki's well-meaning smile quickly inverted, and her eyes widened in noticeable pain. She quietly watched his back as he started walking off to pick up the supplies he had dropped upon her earlier entry. After he placed the dishes back on the table, he announced "I'm gonna go wash this crap off. Be back soon." Then, he moved through one of the side doors and disappeared from view.

"Sheesh..." Tatsumaki grumbled, watching the small drama alongside everyone else. "What crawled up _his_ ass and died?..."

"I mean, it was a mistake. She didn't really intend to hurt him...right?" Lily added in concern.

Bang slowly shook his head, the wrinkles in his brow deepening at the shoddy first impression left in light of Mizuki's bizarre mishap involving his apprentice. As he watched the tall athlete somberly remove her shoes and carry them outside, he silently prayed that he had the guidance and wisdom it took just to keep his new round of students from ripping each other apart.

"Well...since we have everyone here..." He shrugged his shoulders. "I suppose now is the best chance we'll get for proper introductions."

Tatsumaki gave him a queer look. "Are you serious? What, that amazon chick showing up and molesting your sidekick wasn't introduction enough?" She snickered lightly.

"You've sure got your work cut out for you, old man..." Saitama added while resting his hands behind his head in a laid-back manner.

"Perhaps I can take the opportunity for introductions to update my hero database." Genos pondered. "I have virtually no information regarding Captain Mizuki or Lily of the Three Section Staff."

Lily made a conscious effort to restore some of the room's positive energy with an optimistic smile. "I just wanna be friends with everyone..."

"Very well, then..." Bang raised a hand high in the air to rally his dojo. "Everyone, gather around!"

* * *

Five minutes later, seven people were seated on tatami mats, forming a wide circle in the middle of the floor facing each other.

While traditionalists such as Silver Fang and Lily were propped up on their knees with correct posture, others like Saitama and Mizuki sat on their haunches in their signature laid-back fashions.

"Now then," Bang began, clearing his throat, "why don't we do our introductions by going around the room in a clockwise order. You may share your name, any likes or dislikes that you have, an interesting hobby, and what you hope to accomplish in the future." He watched everyone exchange uncertain glances, so he decided to lead by example. "For instance, I'll go first." He straightened himself up even more to add clarity to his voice. "My hero name is Silver Fang, but of course, everyone here can just call me Bang. I enjoy cooked lobster and spirited youths who are eager to try new things. I also dislike rookie crushers and Chinese cabbage. A pastime of mine is playing chess, and my future goal is to once again fill this dojo of mine with motivated students willing to inherit my passion for martial arts before it's time for me to finally depart from this world."

After concluding his introduction, he looked around the room where everyone continued to sit in silence.

Saitama was somehow first to break out of his trance. "...Oh. Sorry, were we supposed to clap?"

"It is not mandatory." Bang replied. "But if by any chance the introduction manages to move your heart, I will permit you to."

As if waiting for the cue, Captain Mizuki proceeded to go absolutely ape. She must have been averaging at ten claps per second as she cheered "Woooooo! Yeeeaahhhh! Yoouuuth! Motivation! Passion! Cabbage! So hype!"

Everyone else gave the brick-built girl a range of looks – most of which included concern.

"Hoho..." The old teacher lightly chuckled in amusement. He turned to the person sitting to his left. "Alright, Charanko, you go next."

"Mm-kay." His pupil crossed his arms in a serious fashion while addressing the heroes. "Well as you've all just heard, the name's Charanko. Just Charanko. No last name. I like cute girls with delicate figures and flawless hair, and I really can't stand guys that show off. A hobby of mine? Hmmm...being heterosexual. And my greatest hope for the future? That's a tough one too, but I'm gonna have to say it's to grow into an exemplary fighter under Bang-sensei's guidance in order protect the weak and inspire them to become better versions of themselves the way I have. That's all." He bobbed his head to signal the end of his prelude.

Genos remained completely unresponsive. Tatsumaki rolled her eyes at his cliché intentions. Saitama had zoned out watching a dim light flicker towards the back of the otherwise well-lit area. Lily, not wanting to appear unsupportive, gave a few hesitant claps.

While Mizuki's eyes glistened with star-struck wonder from his words, Bang himself hid a small, disapproving frown beneath his mustache. He had known Charanko for a few years now, and it was more than enough time for the old master to deduce the boy's true intentions without hearing a word about them. He knew in truth that Charanko was only interested in learning martial arts in a selfish bid to become more popular – especially with those of the female persuasion. The only reason Bang agreed to go through with teaching him regardless of that is because he foolishly hoped that along the way he could change his apprentice's mindset. Even now he could see how much he failed. Moreover, it wasn't what Charanko truly wanted that disappointed Bang as much as how the neophyte seemed unwilling to at least be honest with it.

Shaking his head softly, Bang decided to let it go as the next person stepped up to plate.

"Nice to meet everyone! My official title is Lily of the Three Section Staff, but that's kind of a mouthful, so please, everyone save your breath by just calling me Lily. My favorite things in the world are cute dresses, romantic comedies, and my beeeaaa _utiful_ Boss Fubuki."

' _Gaaaaaay.'_ Tatsumaki internalized her disgust, much to the unawareness of the others present.

"I'm not too fond of pollution or Socialism… My hobbies mainly include gardening and match-making… My goals for the future? Let's see now…" The youngest contributor to the group took a few seconds to think. "I'd have to say that when I get old enough, I would like to establish my own group syndicate and use it to stem the flow of political corruption by taking a practical socioeconomic approach coupled with a brute-force contingency plan in the event of an unprecedented turnover prompted by hostile relations." She ended her explanation with a big, beaming, hopelessly adorable smile. "Eee-hee~"

The rest of the circle fell into a pause so pregnant that you could almost hear its water break.

While the majority struggled to accept that this just came from a girl who was barely past her first period, Saitama leaned towards Genos and asked in confusion "Uhhh...what'd she just say?"

Genos turned towards him and answered. "I believe she said that she would like to form her own group syndicate and use it to stem the flow of political corruption using a practical socioeconomic—"

"No no _no,_ dude, you're _literally_ repeating what she just said."

"Apologies, Master. I thought that was what you wanted..."

Unexpectedly, Tatsumaki simplified the explanation from where she sat on the other side. "The brat wants to form a gang to convince assholes not to be assholes and beat up assholes that still want to be assholes." She explained this without even sparing him a glance of her eye. "Pay attention – you asshole."

Saitama, unsure of whether to actually be grateful or not, just regarded her with a vacant stare before turning to listen to the next speaker.

"Yosh! Whaddup, everybody! Name's Captain Mizuki – or you can even pronounce it _Kyaputen_ Mizuki if you're feeling slightly racist! My friends call me Mizuki, my friendos call me Mizzy, and my _totes besties_ call me Miz! Basically y'all can call me whatever you want!" She grinned broadly. "Umm...what am I supposed to say next?"

"Your likes and dislikes." Bang motioned her.

She nodded abruptly. "Mad thanks, Coach! I like eating, sleeping, and basically doing anything that involves lotsa' movement! I also like guys with a lot of beef on their bones! I like shiny things too! Like, this one time, I decided to stare at the sun for almost an hour! Man that thing's awesome! But I don't like wearing high heels or going to the dentist. ...Or goats. Definitely not goats."

Everyone gave her weird looks while she craned her head to look up at the ceiling to collect the rest of her thoughts.

"Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh HOBBIES. Yeah, hobbies. Hmm...nope, can't think of any~!" She appeared to be a little _too_ cheerful given what she just confessed. "All I really seem to be good at is running. Oh! And jumping. Not to mention swimming. And pole vaulting. There's also shot putting. And grappling. And throwing things. And breaking things. And—"

"Okay, good, very good, it appears you have a lot of hidden talents." Bang politely talked her down. "What about future aspirations? Tomorrow's goals?"

"Y'know, I'm happy you asked that, because I've put a loooootta' thought into it, Coach!" Her expression was brimming with confidence. "My absolute endgame goal is that one day...when I become strong enough – fast enough – good enough..." She paused for dramatic effect, causing everyone else to unconsciously hold their breath in, "...I dream to become a professional hero! Literally; I had a dream about it. So now I wanna do it for real!"

She glanced all over the room, overexcited to see everyone's reaction to this bold, nay, insurmountably insane objective. Her eccentricity dampened a bit when no one even made a sound.

"Ummm...you already _are_ a professional hero?" Lily corrected her, trying her best to believe that the female athlete wasn't being this dense by accident.

Mizuki blinked and pointed at herself. "I...I am?"

"Well _duuhhh!"_ Tatsumaki spouted, annoyance visibly written on her face. "Why the fuck do you think you're even here with us, you bird-brained cockatoo?"

"No way..." Mizuki's eyes widened. "I'm a real hero? You mean...that wasn't just a bogus dream?!" Her mouth opened into the biggest, brightest smile possible as she shot to her feet and celebrated. "WOOOOOO! I _knew_ I could do it! This is, like, the best day of my life ever! I can't sit still anymore! I gotta do at least ten – no! – fifty victory laps around the building! Don't wait up for me, guys! I'm riding cloud nine right now!"

She took off running in a random direction, and – apparently forgetting how doors function in her newfound excitement – ran straight through the wall and loudly smashed the planks into splinters to get outside.

Charanko put a palm to his face and muttered under his breath, "Jesus Mary and Joseph..."

Tatsumaki blinked several times in her cartoonishly dumbstruck countenance before turning her hopeless gaze to a similarly disturbed Bang. "...Silver Fang…" she started, "...Is she stupid?"

The elder closed his eyes and put a fist to his mouth as he cleared his throat. "Well...um… Some of us here appear to be a bit different, and I for one think that we should only count them as blessings. Now then, I believe you are up next, Tornado."

Her face turned dismissive. "Pass."

"Come now," he insisted, "share a bit of yourself with us. No one here will judge you."

"Yeah, out _loud,_ maybe _..._ " She emphasized with a scoff. "I'm not a sharer."

She fidgeted at the crude sound of Saitama blowing a raspberry while pointing his thumb down in Roman-style disapproval. "Booooooo. Lame. Last chick was funnier. Bring back that happy-go-lucky She-Bulk."

"Oh yeah, like I'm really here to entertain _you_ schmucks!" She shouted at him. "Keep dreaming, Phallus Maximus!"

Saitama turned the other way and looked at his other neighbor. "Well, guess she froze up on us, Genos. I wasn't expecting much anyway, but still. Kind of a letdown, huh..."

"Understood." The cyborg nodded dutifully. "I will proceed to update my virtual dossier on the Tornado of Terror to include crippling stage fright as a confirmed weakness—"

"All RIGHT, already!" She growled at them. Asserting herself by standing up and striking a power pose with her hands on her hips, she turned to aggressively address her waiting public. "My fucking name's Senritsu no Tatsumaki, get it? If you seriously haven't heard of me by now, you can go run back to the rock you've been living under. I don't particularly like anything, and I hate a lot of things. Exhibit A:" she jerked her thumb out not-so-subtly towards a certain Saitama who was reclining on his spot next to her, "... _this_ fucksqueek."

"Just glad to do my part." He added with a careless smile.

She ignored him and continued. "My hobbies include beatboxing, contortion, ice-sculpting, playing the electric guitar..."

Saitama shot up from his flaccid sitting position to stare at her in awe. "Whoa, seriously?!"

A small grin threatened to creep its way across her face as she finished out her list. "...and making people who actually believed those were true feel like total dumbasses."

The wonder in Saitama's face shattered like glass, revealing his abashment at how easily he had been played for a fool.

"And my target goal..." The phantom traces of her taunting smile disappeared as she thought about her hope for the future. "Well..." She put her fingers twiddled her thumbs, trying to figure out the least naive way to express her intention. "I...I guess...it would be kind of... _interesting_ to, umm...fall in love."

The rest of the group listening to her let out surprised gasps and grunts at her surprising declaration. If there was a single person in the world who would've guessed what this little green devil would say, that person clearly wasn't sitting in the room right now.

Lily, although still not quite composed from being blindsided by the cold queen's wish, was nevertheless the first to jump and offer her support. "Kyaaa! Incredible, Auntie!" Soft bubbles seemed to physically manifest around the doting girl. "You truly have a maiden's heart after all! Have no fear! I don't at all doubt that you'll find a handsome prince out there worthy of spending the rest of your life with! So just stay strong!"

While Genos and Charanko both elected to express their confusion by remaining silent, Saitama adhered to his more direct approach.

"Hey," he raised his eyebrows in a more skeptical fashion, "are you still yanking our chain?"

Tatsumaki's expression lit up in surprise at his suspicion. "O-of course I'm not! Is it really that hard to believe? I'm a _woman,_ after all. God, don't be so insensitive!"

The two continued to lock eyes, and just as Tatsumaki couldn't bear holding her gaze to him any longer, he unexpectedly broke away first. "Well okay then..."

She heaved a sigh of great relief that she felt all the way to her core.

' _Guess they really bought it...'_ She thought to herself. _'Suckers.'_

She wasn't a completely shallow or short-sighted person; she really did have a prospective goal. But why should she actually be willing to share it with _this_ bunch of losers? She looked at it with the same policy as blowing out candles for a birthday cake: say the wish, and it won't come true.

That in mind, she decided to just fake it. Fall in love? _Her?_ Sure, that'll definitely happen. Right after that fatass Pig God loses nine hundred pounds dieting and Sweet Mask comes out of the closet.

...Well...thinking about it more closely, that last scenario might actually prove to be true.

Satisfied that she had pulled the wool over everyone's eyes with her drippy romantic feint, the esper allowed herself to sail comfortably back down onto her mat.

From the other side of the gathering, Bang expressed some silent curiosity by scrunching his eyebrows into a tightly wrinkled furrow. He wasn't born yesterday, and – much like Saitama – had more than a little trouble grasping Tatsumaki's words based on what little about her he already understood. But if the wisdom of advanced aging taught Bang anything besides fighting, it was to know where a woman's bad side was – and how to avoid getting there. Not wanting to glean more from her than she was already allowing him to, the old master decided to just leave her introduction at that. "Ehm...thank you, Tatsumaki, for that...bracing glimpse into your life." His eyes shifted focus onto the composite body of gleaming metal next to her.

Reading the silent nod from Bang, Genos returned it with doubled determination before straightening up his spine. As he prepared his introduction, Mizuki came waltzing back to her spot, apparently satisfied with her jaunt.

"My professionally-sanctioned alias is Demon Cyborg. However, I am also called Genos. That name is short for 'Genocide.' My preferences consist of the insightfully obscure lessons I receive by observing the way Saitama-sensei conducts his affairs."

"Genos..." Saitama weakly called from the side.

"And I severely detest those who look down on Saitama-sensei for his peculiar head and zany fashion sense!" The cyborg vehemently persisted.

"Genos please..."

"My hobbies are comprised of documenting words of wisdom and training techniques from Saitama-sensei in my private journal, as well as surfing the internet for natural hair growth formulas, advanced (and at times legally ambiguous) hair follicle-enhancing procedures, as well as classy wigs."

Saitama covered his face in palpable misery. "Someone kill me..."

"And my existence's primary objective..." Genos narrowed his eyes with intensity… "Well, in order for everyone to fully fathom my ambition, I will have to relay my past..."

Saitama's hands fell from his face, revealing the mortified expression it harbored as Genos could be heard taking in a deep breath next to him. _'Oh_ _dear_ _God_ _no...'_

"It all started 4 years ago... I was 15 years old and still a normal human being. Even in this harsh world, I had a pretty happy and peaceful life with my family until then. But one day, a crazy cyborg attacked our town all of a sudden. He had completely lost his mind... I guess, his brain had been damaged during its transplantation into his cyborg body. He left after destroying everything in the town. The parks, the schools, the buildings, my home... Of course, my family didnot survive. OnlyIwasmiraculouslyspared,butasIwasjustameek15yearoldboybackthen,Iwouldn' —"

"GENOS." The sharpness in Saitama's voice finally managed to cut through the oblique details of the cyborg's backstory that for some reason drastically increased in tempo has he went on. "BOI. WE'VE BEEN THOUGH THIS."

Genos, ashamed of himself, cleared his throat. "...An evil machine killed my family, so I want to destroy it."

The two roommates turned to the sobbing noises they heard from across their spots in the circle. Tears were literally streaking down the faces of Lily and Mizuki as they hopelessly wept.

"F-For someone to have gone through so much pain..." Lily's words quivered uncontrollably.

"Poor metal dude…" Mizuki wiped her face with the back of her hand.

Lily closed her eyes in cathartic torment. "...And then on top of it all...to have his story so brutally silenced before it can even be sung…!"

Mizuki loudly blew her nose with the towel still wrapped around her shoulders. _"Poor sad metal dude…!"_

"You two are actually sympathizing with that overblown recap?!" Saitama frantically spat, dumbstruck at the support Genos's horrible storytelling had gained him.

Bang took the opportunity to cough awkwardly. "I am...terribly sorry for your loss, my young friend. Thank you for opening your heart to us."

Genos gave the elderly man a perplexed stare. "Heart…?" He thought for a few seconds before raising his eyebrows in realizing what he meant. "Oh. You must be referring to my Class III Model T-16 Version 3.5 Fully Bio-Filtered Triple-Calibrated Carbide Compound Processing Engine."

Bang regarded him with an unsteady look. "I suppose I am. Okay, Saitama. You're the last one standing. Take it away."

Giving Genos one last side-glance, the generically-costumed hero shifted his lax position slightly upward in a half-hearted attempt at decency. "Well, as if hearing me repeat my name adds any real significance, it's Saitama. My favorite food is hot pot, hence the reason I'm here. I also like seaweed, and new products of dubious value at stores I don't have to travel too far to get to. I dislike boring, underwhelming things. My hobbies are coupon-collecting and keeping my apartment's cactus plant alive. And my dream..."

Saitama recounted in his mind what he told the first mysterious being he ever defeated three years ago. Looking back now, the dream he had at the time was stupid. Become a superhero who was strong enough to beat bad guys with a single punch? Back then it was a ridiculous wish because it was thought to be impossible. Turns out that now it's ridiculous for an entirely different reason. Which ironically led to an even more ridiculous goal than the one he had before.

Not wanting to cheapen his already cheap desire with an even cheaper backstory, Saitama let out a small sigh before vaguely saying "I want to find someone."

He left the statement floating around the room, causing the other heroes in the circle to peer at him with varying levels of scrutiny. They each had their ways of revealing their intrigue – some more noticeable than others. Genos's curiosity in his master's wish was an easy read. His face did everything short of screaming at the bald man to tell him who he meant. Others like Bang simply leaned forward intently.

Tatsumaki narrowed her eyes at him in waiting silence.

"Someone?" Lily blinked. "Who?"

Saitama's facetious features took a serious turn as he stared at the empty spot in the middle of the circle. "I don't know who. All I know is that I want to find them. I don't even know if they live on this planet. But they have to exist. I know they do." He held up a gloved hand in front of his face, staring at the details and contours of his palm before closing it into a fist. "A being strong enough for me to fight. A being who can survive a single, honest blow from this stupidly overpowered strength I've been cursed with. When that day comes... _if_ that day comes..." He looked around at everyone else with unshakable resolve. "On that day...I'll have everything I could hope for."

Everyone's eyes visibly widened.

Minutes went by. The dojo had fallen so quiet that the air itself seemed to dry up.

Eventually though, there was that first abrupt muffle to slip someone's mouth – symptomatic of a chuckle.

Soon after, another joined in. And another after that.

Until thunderous laughter echoed through the large open space.

Besides Saitama, who had partially expected this behavior, there were three other people in the room that did not join in the mirth:

Genos,

Bang,

and Tatsumaki.

Whether it was due to each of them experiencing his prowess firsthand, or just their more refined posits as S-Class heroes, the trio waited in silence as the juniors in the building finished their amused rounds.

"Aww man, you really had me going there for a second..." Charanko wiped a genuine tear from his eye.

"I'm sorry…! I swear I'm not, hah...I'm not trying to laugh on purpose…!" Lily insisted, even as she was holding her sides with impulsive giggling.

"Dude! That is so hardcore!" Mizuki proclaimed with overabundant cheer, though no one was exactly sure what she meant by that. Her shadow had fully eclipsed Saitama before he even realized she had left her seat. Ever unaware of her abrasive strength, she frivolously swept the Caped Baldy off the floor and into a playful headlock, proceeding to rub a noogie with her knuckle over his barren scalp. "Know what? I didn't even realize how shiny you are! You remind me of Darkshine-sempai. I like you, Shiny Guy!"

"What is happening right now..." Saitama's question came out as an unappreciative muffle from beneath the hyper woman's rock-hard bicep.

Genos sprang up in alert to Mizuki's sudden advance. "I would ask that you refrain from touching my master – least of all in such a carefree manner!"

Mizuki pouted her lip at him, but nevertheless followed instruction. "Toaster-san got mad at me..." She murmured abjectly.

Bang saw this as the perfect time to speak up. "Yes, yes, I think that will do it for the formalities. I've kept you all long enough. You're welcome to everything sitting on the table. Please hold nothing back. It's time to eat."

With the introductions finished, the others proceeded to stand up too. While some of the others walked towards the refreshments still shaking off their fits of laughter over Saitama's hilarious wish, Bang stepped closer to the strange hero himself to get a good look at him.

He set a reassuring hand on the shorter hero's shoulder, prompting Saitama to look up at him with an empty, vacant stare.

"Please do not take their reactions to heart." The old man implored softly. He glanced back over his shoulder to make sure that his other young guests were out of earshot before continuing. "You know, when I was around your age, I was the smallest in my class. My peers...they laughed too. Judged me by my appearance. Called me Runt. Always decided that being born with a different body type was a contest they had already won." A small, concealed grin spread beneath his mustache. "Oh, they quite enjoyed themselves. For a time."

"Let me guess." Saitama interrupted. "They motivated you to train harder. Push your limits. Day and night. So that one special day, you ended up beating them all down to prove them wrong about you."

Bang's eyes widened in astonishment. "Goodness, no! Why would I do that to people who were even better teachers for me than my own sensei?"

Saitama gave him a quizzical turn. "What are you talking about, dude?"

"Saitama…my sensei taught me techniques. But like you, there were many moments in my youth where I lacked motivation, and my sensei was not equipped with the patience to deal with that. But you were right about them being my reason for getting stronger. If not for them, my journey would have ended before it even began, and this dojo would have likely gone to my brother instead."

"Being made fun of doesn't bother me. And even if it did, you still shouldn't waste your breath. My issue is different than yours. It isn't about getting stronger."

"No, it isn't." Bang shook his head. "It's about finding just the right motivation to improve your quality of life."

The martial arts expert peered out from the corner of his eye to glance at Tatsumaki, who at the moment had retreated to the ceiling to survey everything from high up.

Saitama caught on to where he was looking, and his face fell into disenchantment. "Oh please don't. She can't help me." He told the old master flatly. "She isn't who I'm looking for. We've already roughhoused. She isn't strong enough."

Bang turned his attention fully back to Saitama. "Who ever said anything about her needing to be strong enough?"

"Do all old people like being this vague?"

"For now, just put forth an honest effort to get to know her. She might surprise you."

Saitama turned his head away from Bang to stare up at the esper. It didn't take long for her to feel the eyes, because she almost immediately returned his attention with a bitter scowl of her own.

As the baldy's face soured into a source of equal displeasure, he spoke without even looking back at Silver Fang. "I think the trip we took just to get up here taught me everything I care to learn."

"That's exactly the problem, my boy." Bang's grip on his shoulder noticeably tightened. "A person's character can't be mastered in one afternoon. Tornado is no different."

"Yeah, say that after she's called _you_ a candy-coated dildo..."

"I'm not saying she doesn't make a tough adversary. She's been at odds with me too. But adversity is one of life's elevators. It either takes you up or down. So tell me, young fellow..." the hand resting on Saitama's shoulder gave it a few sporting pats before Bang removed it and turned to walk off towards the others. "...where will you let it bring you?"

* * *

Following the lack of grace from the meet-and-greet, the ensuing feast was actually quite different in comparison. As everyone put their dishes together and took their seats alongside the wall, the dojo's ambiance hummed with casual, unhurried energy.

Respectively, Charanko sat on the far end of the table, placing as much distance as possible from the brawny athletic woman who had earlier brought him to death's door. Bang sat between Tatsumaki and Saitama, while Genos remained dutifully stationed at his bald mentor's other flank. Lily and Mizuki hung off the other end of the table together, with the former taking her food in with light, dainty portions of her chopstick while the latter girl proceeded to plow as much food as her mouth could hold with each ravenous bite.

The air around the dining table was abuzz with chatter. Between bites of their meals, Lily and Mizuki would occasionally boast about their beloved idols (Fubuki and Darkshine), only for Genos to unceremoniously declare that _his_ idol (you know the one), could easily dominate both of the other aforementioned idols with a single, small-winded punch. This earned a harmless giggle from Lily, a slack-jawed look of veneration from a easily-convinced Mizuki, and a sharp poke on the shoulder with a pair of chopsticks from Saitama, who clearly didn't appreciate the extra attention.

Bang and Tatsumaki periodically swapped gossip about other amusing team pairings, as well as reports of progress on their own personal heroic agendas. According to Bang, a few A-listers had already left the national hero registry – presumably because of the great inflation of C-Class heroes compared to those of the A-Class expected to look after them. To complicate matters, the influx of C-Class heroes would naturally grow worse from the vacancies left by their retiring partners, which in turn was sure to increase the burden on the heroes in Class A that elected to stay. However, because of the mandatory teaching seminar that all A-Class heroes were required to do (such as Sneck during Genos and Saitama's recruitment examination), many of the higher ranks had the training necessary to shoulder the larger loads. And as an added form of damage control, the board announced an upcoming scrambling exercise for volunteering S-Classes to take in additional heroes and ease the burdens of their underclassmen. Those who agreed to volunteer would be offered a raise in proportion to the number of added juniors, and all C-Class heroes left out of this exchange would be taken in by seasoned executives functioning as senior substitutes.

Obviously given what little time the executive board had to lay the ground rules following last weekend's little incident, this was the best they could work with for now. One thing was for sure – things in the Hero Association would change very much - very fast - very soon.

Tatsumaki couldn't care less about the politics at this rate. She was still pissed at the HA for dragging her into their affairs at all. Granted they at least had the good sense to pit her with just one guy, but…

She turned her gaze down the table just in time to see Saitama use his chopsticks to fling a shrimp through the air over to where a frenzied Mizuki snatched it hungrily in her mouth, as if solely on base primitive instinct.

...but why the fuck did it have to be _him?_ What are they thinking?

"And I believe I will be volunteering for more juniors as well." Bang continued on, seemingly unaware that she had stopped paying attention to him five words into the topic. "I don't need the money, but this seems to be the perfect excuse to get more heroes involved in martial arts, making them more efficient in their own assignments as well."

"Mm-hmm..."

"And it will keep my dojo filled too, if only for a brief period. But who knows? Perhaps some of them might even take a liking to my school and start coming as regulars."

"Sure..."

"Tatsumaki? Why are you staring so much at Saitama?"

Now that got her attention. Hearing the bald hero's name prompted her to shudder in surprise, blinking awake as life flooded back into her eyes. "Huh? W-who? I wasn't staring at anything..." She immediately turned to fixate back on her plate, doing best to prove her detachment from her surroundings.

Bang raised an eyebrow at her, amusement flickering in his unwavering eye. "What did you think of his goal? Quite daring, wouldn't you say?" He questioned, nudging her back onto topic. "Does it by chance make you want to take him up on his challenge?"

She scoffed at the suggestion. "Don't act so full of shit. What does an S-Class have to prove to a B-Class anyway?!" She ended the flustered sentence by chomping down on a bit of food floating into her mouth via her telekinesis.

The old master scratched his chin. _'So that's how it is, eh…?'_ He closed his eyes in deep thought, deciding to focus on his meal.

At least for now.

* * *

A few hours had crept by. The sun had veiled itself behind the horizon, and the sky had proceeded to darken. Where there were once layers of entrees and side dishes, there now stood a tall stack of empty plates. The last bite had been taken a good hour or so ago, but Bang had wanted to be sure that everyone had time to settle before asking the question he had held in since the beginning.

He stood up and made his way to the center of the room, placing himself in front of everyone still seated at the table talking. "I would like to thank everyone for joining me for dinner. So tell me. Does anyone here do martial arts?" The voices in the room slowed to a calm as heads proceeded to look at each other. "As I'm sure you all are aware, an old man like me alone has no business standing at Rank 3 in this association of remarkable people..." He crouched his body lower, bending his knees at precise angles as he oriented himself into his representative fighting stance. "I owe all credit of my position to my school's signature style of _Water Stream Rock Smashing Fist._ "

Tatsumaki's eyes drooped into an underwhelmed aspect. And there it was. The whole ulterior motive she had been waiting for since before the meal began. The reason why everyone's seats were oh-so carefully placed to one side of the table so that everyone could face out into the middle of the arena. The old codger was trying to pander his business with a dramatic showcase of his moves.

"Seriously? _This_ again?" Recognizing the groaning voice, she turned her eye to see Saitama making a tired expression identical to hers. Apparently she hadn't been the only one to suspect Silver Fang's intentions. That, or Bang had done something _very_ similar to this in the past.

"Of course!" Bang replied, as if perfectly anticipating this reaction from him. "I stand by what I told you last time, Saitama. You may be strong, but even _your_ potential has yet to be fully tapped. And I'm willing to place all my hard decades of experience on the line that martial arts is the keystone you're missing. What attribute does a body-builder most covet?"

"Ooh! Ooh! I know that one! Me me me me me! Pick meeeeee." Mizuki shouted, raising her hand up and shaking it sporadically. He nodded to her for an answer. "Raw physical power!"

He closed his eyes and nodded. "Correct! And how does a martial artist differ?"

"It depends on the style..." Lily thoughtfully began. "But generally, a martial artist trains their body in a more specialized way. Rather than capitalizing on strength alone, they tend to focus on finesse and precision, shaping their muscles in ways best tailored to their own techniques."

"Very well-spoken, Lily! So you see, the main focus of any fighter should be a fine-struck balance between strength and precision. I've dedicated my life to pursuing this secret. And after years of constant study on countless martial arts – both famous and unknown – I have achieved my answer: Water Stream Rock Smashing Fist. It is an invention of my very own, known only to a few select individuals."

"Including me, right?" Charanko pointed at himself expectantly.

Bang opened one eye to peek at him before closing it again. "Hmmm… Perhaps after you master the white belt of the forbidden style known as _karate,_ we'll discuss what to do with you next."

His student's smile dropped. "Aww man..."

Tatsumaki was about to protest against the thought that martial arts meant anything against a superhuman that could move mountains with her mind, but someone surprised her by beating her to the punch.

"From the last visit, I thought our expressions on the matter were clear." Genos stated adamantly. "Master Saitama has no wish to partake of your training, and my only interest is to advance my arsenal for large-scale destruction."

"Seriously," Saitama agreed, "I mean, how different can martial arts training be from regular body exercises? All you do is teach your body to move a certain way. In fact, I think I've gotten a pretty good idea of your fighting style just by watching you stand there."

Bang had to struggle just to keep his amusement from showing in his face. _'So unbelievably naive...'_ He chuckled inwardly. "Very well, Saitama. I know you mean business, so I'll take you at your word. Since the concept of advanced fighting techniques seems to come so naturally to you, I think we all would appreciate a demonstration. Express with your body – not your words – what defines _your_ martial arts."

Saitama heaved a sigh at the inconvenience of being called out, but shrugged as he got up from his seat. He knew how stubborn the old goat could be, so it would probably be more effort to talk his way out of it than to just give him what he wanted. "Fine…guess since I came all the way up here, I should put on some sort of show." He ambled up to where Bang was waiting for him, and the old teacher gave him a slight bow as he handed the floor over.

Saitama swiftly closed his hand into a tight fist, and the sound of cracking knuckles rang through the room from the violent contraction of muscle.

"This..." Saitama gradually relaxed his posture, feeling his body lighten and loosen as he opened his palms back up, "...is also a martial art that I came up with."

The whole room seemed to share an involuntary gasp as they witnessed the explosion of confidence emanating from the Caped Baldy.

"This is an unbranded series of free-flowing combos that I'm still working to perfect. If you don't want to miss a single detail, don't blink."

Everyone watched carefully as he lifted his leg high up with flexibility that even Genos never knew he had. Balancing with perfect equilibrium, he proceeded to breathe deep through his nose. Hoisting his foot forward, the dojo floor splintered under the force, sending a long chasm stretching through the wood. It reached all the way up to the table and split it into two perfect pieces. Everyone shuddered with surprise. After the colossal stomp, he exhaled out of his mouth, and steam appeared to escape with his breath in a sharp, piercing hiss.

Giving his audience no time to recompose, Saitama broke out into a merciless flurry of frenzied blows. The floorboards beneath did not survive the first movement, let alone the second or third – all of which took place in the blink of an eye.

Saitama ignored the damage as the smooth surface below his feet erupted with each graceful step and slide. Debris flew up all around him in perfectly rectangular chunks of wood from the elegant flooring. Without wasting a moment of inertia, Saitama effortlessly weaved through each projectile as if threading a needle. Within the amount of time it took for everything to fall, he had danced between each flying fragment with a myriad of roundoffs, handsprings, tucks, pikes, and various other aerial maneuvers. After every available space had been thoroughly invaded, he flipped himself into an inverted position, and riding the axis along the floor, threw his legs up into a long series of inverted windmill kicks, utterly dicing the flying objects around him into a sandstorm of splinters.

With all obstacles around him removed, he did a quick kip-up and smashed his fists together, creating a thunderous shock wave that blew the newly produced dust cloud away from his body. The force shook the dojo and caused the lights to flicker. At this point, everyone watching was just trying to keep their balance, but even without the shaking ground, the mere vision of his every dance-like motion was strangely mesmerizing.

In spite of the savagery behind each attack, every punch and kick was dealt with prolific purpose. Not a single movement was wasted. In fact, rather than slow down, his motions only grew faster and faster as he executed them with unyielding succession. His techniques, while unorthodox, were resolute and backed by the focus of a fighting genius. Every attack created a storm – every attack sacrificed a piece of the building that sheltered it.

This was no mere martial art. It was a martial _masterpiece._ An interpretive dance. The Fleur-de-lis of fight culture.

By the time his demonstration concluded, there was nothing left of the dojo but a deep crater in the center of which Saitama stood. And everyone that had been watching – even Bang himself – had been knocked out cold from the display of what can only be described as sheer immaculate skill.

…

…

...At least, that's how it played out in Saitama's mind.

In reality, the bald hero was – rather unremarkably – attacking the air with a bunch of pretentious karate chops, half-assed jumps, and lazy movements that could be more accurately described as leg swings than actual kicks.

The word 'awkward' was several hundred letters too short to express how truly uncomfortable watching Saitama's strange goat dance really was.

Everyone bore mute witness to the performance – though perhaps not for the reason he was banking on.

When his display slowed to a standstill, Saitama looked out at the table where sat the spectators, and when a certain cyborg realized he was done, Genos slowly started clapping his hands together, rapidly picking up tempo as he rose from his seat with the same appreciation for beauty as Shia LaBeouf watching his musical rendition as a crazed cannibal.

"Magnificent, Master! Resplendent! Magnifique! Sōdai!" His face was frozen into a look of pure approbation, blind to any flaws that were plain to just about everyone else.

Drawing much more stimulus off of Genos's positive reaction than the spectacle itself, Mizuki enthusiastically shared in his excitement, conjuring a few cheers of her own. "Wow, Shiny Guy! That was...an awesome...whatever that even was!"

The _a_ _ctual_ martial arts practitioners were less enthusiastic about what they just saw.

Silver Fang, for all his mental fortitude, had been rendered catatonic while Charanko cuffed his mouth and rushed out of the room to vomit. Lily had gone white as a sheet, electing to cover her eyes and curl up into a fetal ball under the table before the impression of Saitama's exhibit could deal any lasting damage to her psyche.

"Ha..."

All heads turned in alarm when they heard a sound never heard before.

"Pfft... _Bwahahahahaa!_ _**-snort-**_ Ahahahaha!" Unbridled, choking cackles came pouring out of Tatsumaki as the esper doubled over while gripping her sides. "Oh ow! Ow my fucking organs...!"

While everyone was agape at the fact that Tatsumaki – the cold and callous Tornado of Terror herself – was not only expressing the response commonly known as laughter, but apparently dying of it, Saitama was less than appreciative of the reaction.

"Hey! Stop laughing at me, you little brat! I poured my whole heart into that style!"

"Yeah?" She replied between giggles, wiping a small tear from her eye. "And what, _O'_ _-Exalted One,_ is your style called? The _Chicken Dance?!_ "

Saitama gritted his teeth in frustration, ready to march directly toward her, only to be stopped by Bang who was quick to cut in between them. "It's refreshing to see that for as long as I've lived, there are things in this world that still surprise me." He smiled sportingly.

"And what's _that_ supposed to mean, old man?!" Saitama demanded, not much more appeased than before.

The aged master held a calming hand up to him. "Nothing bad, of course. The last thing I would wish to do is draw your ire. Thank you for humoring me."

Bang turned to see his star apprentice stagger back into the room, having fully relieved his stomach of its contents.

"Well...when it comes to crab dishes, I think I'm officially ruined for life..." Charanko wheezed sickly.

"Good timing, Charanko." Bang spoke up cheerfully. "Now that you're light as a feather, this is a golden opportunity to show off the results of your training too. What do you say to a small sparring match?"

His pupil returned the enthusiastic suggestion with a countenance of dread. "Now? For real?"

Ignoring the implied protest, Bang turned to face the cyborg. "What do you think, Genos? Would you be willing to gauge my student's progress in a rematch?"

Genos's face reflected his disinterest, but he nevertheless replied, "Very well. I was just thinking about doing a small movement exercise to ease my digestion."

Charanko's weary expression exploded into panic. "S-Seriously, Sensei?! You're making me fight _him_ again? Blondie's got fists of steel! Literal steel!"

"Calm yourself, Charanko." His teacher replied. "You won't be alone this time. Since Genos is an S-ranked contender, how about we divvy up the odds a bit." He raised his voice to call someone else over. "Mizuki!"

"Coach!" The girl perked up.

"Feeling good?"

"Yeah Coach!"

"Come over here for a second. Charanko needs your muscle."

Said student's eyes grew into wide saucers. This was officially the worst night of Charanko's whole miserable life.

Realizing protesting would do little good once Silver Fang had set his mind to something, the rookie martial artist swallowed the bitter pill and looked away as the heavy hustling steps of the bulking athlete ushered her approach.

"Whazzup!" Mizuki flashed Charanko a toothy grin and wink, clearly having forgotten all about their previous encounter. He silently glared off to the side, doing his best not to make eye contact with the woman towering next to him.

Saitama and Genos proceeded to exchange spots, with the former sitting down and the latter taking his place on the floor.

With Genos standing to one side of the wood arena and Charanko and Mizuki standing to the other, all participants of the 2-v-1 awaited Bang's mark.

"Remember, this is only a light spar." The old master reminded them. "Attack with the intention to disarm or ring-out your opponent only. I will not permit injury."

The three nodded at the condition.

"Charanko. Mizuki. This will be your first exercise as fellow peers. You will need to apply teamwork if you expect to last long against Genos. That is my advice to you. Begin!"

The three got into their own separate fighting stances. Charanko readied himself with a basic _heisoku-dachi_ high karate stance, while Captain Mizuki took up both fists in a guarded boxing pose.

Genos simply raised a single fist to them, and they both swallowed as they heard his bionic joints whir ominously. "Come, then." The cyborg beckoned them. "Let's get this over with."

"Alright, lil' man," Mizuki whispered to Charanko off to the side, "here's what we try. I'll distract him by crowding his front, and you—"

"Screw this." Her sparring buddy cut her off, proceeding to dash straight at the cyborg.

Genos patiently drew his leg back, shifting his position a full pace backwards while holding his ground with the other foot. Then, he raised his arm forward, and—

 _=PRANG=_

Charanko did a backwards 360 through the air before landing squarely on his front. Genos continued to hold his fist outstretched where his opponent had unwittingly charged face-first into it.

The orange-haired boy held both hands to his face, screaming out his pain in a muffle as he rolled around on the floor. "My nose…" He groaned nasally. "I think he broke my nose…!"

"Genos!" Saitama scolded from his spot. "No breaking peoples' noses! That's rude."

"I do not mean to shift blame," the cyborg replied, "but I merely held my fist out while he ran straight into it."

"He speaks truly." Bang added prudently. "I was watching Genos's posture. He did not apply any force of his own. Charanko's forward momentum did all the work for him..."

"How's it look?!" Charanko sat up, holding his hands out under his face. "Is it bleeding?"

Lily gave him a sad look. "I think you'll be fine, sweetie."

"The young miss is correct." Bang confirmed, trying best to hide his disappointment. "Quickly now. Shake it off, and maybe watch where you're running while you're at it."

"H...Hai, Sensei."

Tatsumaki's eyes narrowed in their customarily silent but harsh judgment as she watched the sorry excuse for a fighter struggle back to his feet. Keeping her attention to the fight in front of her, she leaned her head toward Bang and whispered. "Is this mouth-breather really the only student you have?"

Bang closed his eyes and sighed, expecting a comment like this from her sooner or later. "Yes..."

"The hell is this, amateur hour? He basically just proved that he'd lose against a collapsible road sign."

The old dojo keeper was fresh out of words.

Mizuki sprinted full-force into Genos from the side, catching him in a vicious tackle as she attempted to wrestle him out of the ring. She managed to move him about three meters or so before the cyborg found his footing and anchored himself to the floor. With her progress suspended, Mizuki bit down into a hard grit, electing instead to go from trying to push him back to wrapping her arms around him in an effort to pin him to the floor.

Her mistake.

As she struggled to get a solid lock on his torso, Genos took advantage of his lack of joints in order to worm his way free of her advance and slam his palm against her abdomen. While not meant to inflict any sort of damage, a blast from the air compressor stored in his hand was enough to throw her far back into her corner to rethink her approach.

With the female body-builder briefly incapacitated, Charanko took this shining moment to rejoin the fray. Throwing in a few zigs and zags to keep the cyborg guessing, the fighting neophyte dramatically shouted out "Ultimate Punch!"...before getting a metal hand wrapped around his face prior to unleashing said ultimate punch. Genos had him harmlessly staved off at arm's reach, and when he turned his head to see Mizuki lunge at him from the side again, he calmly readjusted his position to swap places with a captive Charanko, who took the body slam intended for someone else.

As Bang watched the two collide with each other, and subsequently the floor, he shook his head at the poor lack of coordination. In an effort to bring the spar closer to a fair fight, the old master realized that he instead handed Genos an enormous advantage by giving him two clumsy opponents to use against one another.

"Oof! Watch where you're going, you big brute!" Charanko shouted from beneath the body sandwich the two made when they crashed.

"S-sorry..." Mizuki replied dizzily.

"Your underlings need discipline, Bang." Genos stated with his back to the two lumps on the floor.

Charanko angrily shrugged Mizuki's legs off from his shoulders. "I'll teach you to look down on the star pupil of the legendary Bang-sensei!"

Determined not to let her ally rush in all alone again, Mizuki quickly shot to her feet and followed closely behind to act as Charanko's shadow.

The white-belt rushed up to the cyborg again, intent on dealing at least one square hit; whether it inflicted any damage or not, he didn't care.

"Ballsy." Saitama remarked from the side.

"Half-cocked moron." Tatsumaki added.

"Charanko-san, be careful!" Lily tried to warn him.

Charanko leapt up at Genos with his back still turned, transitioning the jump into a flying kick. Then, at the very last second before impact, the cyborg flipped around and grabbed the boy's extended leg, suspending him in midair. Unbeknownst to Charanko, his sparring buddy came in immediately from behind, throwing both hands up together in an uppercutting volley ball bump.

"YEET!" Mizuki shouted as she let it loose.

Sensing the danger, Genos pulled Charanko closer while he was still off-balance and off-guard, directing him straight into the woman's line of attack. Mizuki's blow connected soundly with Charanko's face, catapulting him half-way across the room before he finally thudded into the floor, out cold.

"Oh..." Mizuki clasped both hands over her mouth, realizing what she had done. "Oh no no no..."

Genos allowed her to break away and rush over to her fallen partner's aid – as if it could still make a difference.

"Are we done here?" The cyborg asked, brushing a speck of dust off his shoulder.

Bang frowned at the result, but nodded. "Oh, Charanko..." He sighed again, staring over to where a certain amazon was now fretting over the crumpled body of his disciple. "I admire his confidence a lot...but I wish he had bothered to try at least one of the moves I taught him..."

"Should we do something to help him?" Lily inquired with concern, staring out to where Mizuki was now kneeling down and desperately fanning the boy's swelling, knocked-out face with her towel.

"He'll be fine." Bang replied. "If nothing else, Charanko's training here has conditioned him to take a fair beating." His attention turned to the tall woman still hawking over his topic of discussion. "It seems as though Mizuki is something of a judoka, seeing how purposeful she was while wrestling with Genos. Perhaps with enough encouragement, she could even specialize in Muay Thai, given her strong body type."

Satisfied with what information he gleaned, the old master turned to look down at his other hero partner.

"Now that I know just how much work I have to do with them, I'm also curious about _your_ martial capabilities, Lily."

The young girl nodded before pulling out segments of some kind of tool seemingly out of nowhere. "I'm sure you can guess how I got my hero name, right?"

"That's the famous three-section staff, eh?" Bang inspected the elegant rods of metal linked together with golden rings. "So you're a weapons user then."

Rather than choose to boast about her skill with words, the youngest Blizzard Group member made a wide sweeping motion of her arm, inhaling with deep concentration as she assumed a ready stance and unlocked both segments of her staff.

Shifting the fulcrum of her body from leg to leg, she engaged in a full rocking motion while gripping two different sections of her weapon and propelling it like the blades of a fan. The edges of the rods struck the wood floor below her with rapid yet consistent patters before she adjusted the twirls high over her head in an effortless transition.

She began to pace along the floor without slowing her arm movements, and when she gathered enough momentum, she added in spinning jumps, keeping her staff in motion and ready to adjust to any situation. In a final display of her prodigal agility, the girl threw herself into an aerial cartwheel, instinctively straightening the columns of her instrument before slamming it down in a perfect line upon landing again.

She ended her demonstration with a modest bow.

"Not bad." Bang nodded his approval.

"Pretty nimble, kid." Saitama remarked.

Tatsumaki crossed her arms, unimpressed. "Eh. I've seen better stuff in movies."

The two men who had just provided their compliments gave the esper a shared look.

"And what about _you?_ " Saitama emphasized the last word with pointed stress. "Can _you_ do awesome spinny stuff with sticks?"

"Haven't you _seen_ what I can do, idiot? I think I'll take psychokinetic potential over sissy slap fights and twirling batons, thank you."

"I see..." Bang scratched his chin. "Then perhaps you would like to offer a demonstration of your martial prowess, Tornado?"

"Yeah. Come to think of it, I've never seen you actually fight." Saitama agreed.

Tatsumaki seemed outraged by the suggestion. "What?! Who says I've never fought! Do you actually believe that unless hitting and kicking is directly involved, it isn't considered a real fight?! How simple can you be?!"

"But don't you ever feel lazy just relying on your powers to do all the work for you?" Saitama pointed out.

"It beats the shit out of _losing!_ " She snapped back.

"So you admit that you'd lose against this little girl in a fair fight?" He asked.

"That isn't how it is! What, you want me to prove it?!"

"Yeah..." Saitama stared down at her with his lifeless, unmoving eyes before motioning over to Lily still standing in the center. "Go on. She's right over there, all dressed up in a handsome suit and waiting for you to ask her to dance."

Tatsumaki rolled her eyes. It wasn't like she had anything better to do with her night. "Fine, you prick. I'll show you exactly why tornadoes should be feared."

Almost seeming too eager, she flew out to the open floor and landed next to Lily.

"Same rules as last time." Bang instructed them. "Absolutely no injuries are permitted. Since Tatsumaki and Lily share a weight class..."

' _Did th_ _at_ _wheezy old fuck just assume my weight?'_ The esper eyed at him coldly.

"—this is hand-to-hand only. So put your weapon away, Lily."

The girl did as she was told. Turning full-front to face her psychic challenger, Lily looked more than a little nervous to be placed against not only her boss's awe-inspiring big sister, but also the second-ranked hero in the nation.

Tatsumaki stood with her arms dominantly folded, silently staring her opponent down with unwavering nerve and unreadable thought.

"You may begin whenever ready." Bang signaled.

Understanding from experience that timing was key, Lily made a mad dash at the esper, determined not to give her any time to even think. _'_ _If I can just reach her with my speed,'_ she counseled herself, _'I'll manage to safely pin her to the floor the same way Mizuki-chan tried with Genos-sama earlier! She's the same size as me… I can do it!'_

Tatsumaki stood her ground.

Bang, Saitama, and Genos all subconsciously leaned forward as the two prepared to clash, waiting to see how Tatsumaki would retaliate in these next few crucial seconds.

Lily tucked her body in before springing off the floor at her like a torpedo. _'Sorry about this, Auntie, but now you're mine~'_

Tatsumaki casually flipped her pointed finger up as her aggressor made her pass.

Just before Lily felt her hand reach a tuft of green hair, her dive roll was cut short by a sudden propulsion upward. Her jaw hung open as she realized that she was thrown directly overhead of her target.

Lily managed to correct her trajectory and land on her feet unharmed, but she was thrown well outside of the sparring area.

"I win." Tatsumaki remarked nonchalantly.

Silver Fang watched Lily get up to casually dust off her outfit before looking back at the self-proclaimed victor. "Well, err...that's well and good, Tatsumaki, but...it might have been even more impressive if you had managed without using your special abilities—"

"Let me ask you something, old man." The esper's frame immediately flashed into a vivid green, causing the entire place to rumble. In an instant, Lily, Genos, Mizuki, and even the still-unconscious Charanko were all thrown to four different walls of the room, plastered helplessly against the surfaces under the tight constraint of Tatsumaki's mind.

"Whoa, who turned off the gravity?" Mizuki wondered with bewilderment.

"My body..." Lily gritted through her teeth, struggling to snap her head away from the wall it was pressed to. "Can't...move…!"

"Can your martial arts help you fight your way out of the pit of a black hole?" The esper addressed Bang.

The old teacher's face tightened into a stern leer as he watched her effortlessly manhandle everyone else in the room, with the exception of Saitama who was standing right next to him.

Not sensing a response coming, Tatsumaki continued with her point. "Did your precious fighting style mean dick against an alien ship that wiped out a major city just by landing on it? Will it matter when a God-level threat comes to take your home and your life? Does it matter right now?" Her eyes narrowed. "Do you truly believe that the limitations of the body can surpass the limitations of the mind? Do you think that you can stop me from doing whatever I want to your little pets right now?"

Saitama looked over at Bang, waiting to see how he would react to what the esper was doing.

Bang closed his eyes, giving his head a few somber shakes. "Tatsumaki…if you believe that the essence of martial arts is meant to be compared with the essence of natural gifts like yours, you've already missed the whole point of it." He started towards her in his slow, even shuffle, stopping a short distance away from her while she continued staring him down from higher up. "If you believe yourself superior to me in any way, then now is your chance to prove it. Let the young ones go. See if you can handle me instead."

"Hey, Gramps, are you sure that's smart?" Saitama asked him from nearby. "That girl won't be gentle with you, you know?"

The master ignored him, focusing all his attention on the esper who sought to challenge his entire way of life. "What say you, Tornado? I promise not to hurt you. I just want to see this special power of yours that everyone's always talking about."

Tatsumaki stared at him for a few moments, as if trying to get a read on his true intentions. She knew he wasn't cocky, and he was far too old to believe he was a match for her after seeing what she can do. Something didn't add up right. So why…

The old man in front of her stood in his casual slouching posture, but through and through, there wasn't an ounce of fear running through those ancient bones.

...why did this wizened geezer appear so _confident?_

Tatsumaki sneered. So what. It's not like confidence and strength went together hand-in-hand. If someone decided to stand in a tornado's path, did that make the tornado change its course? Fuck no.

"Fine, then. I'll do the same thing you told Baldy to do. I'll express my power through action, not words."

Her green glow dimmed, and everyone she had restrained slid harmlessly off the walls. As they got up to survey the stand-off, Bang and Tatsumaki stood resolutely facing each other.

Bang made the first move. Crackling his muscles with a long stretch, he positioned himself in a solid horse stance, where afterwards he remained unnaturally still. She couldn't even see him breathe.

After a brief period of sizing him up, Tatsumaki threw her hand out towards the martial arts master, encompassing him in glowing energy. "Kneel."

Bang visibly shuddered, immediately feeling the intense, invisible weight bearing down on his frail-looking shoulders. Lily and Mizuki both gasped in unison, fearing for the elder's well-being, while Saitama and Genos observed passively from the other side.

"Submit." Tatsumaki commanded him, flattening her hand to give the impression she was pushing downward.

The dojo began to quake again. Veins were popping out from Bang's head, neck, and even through his shirt as he struggled profusely to resist her supernatural influence. Everything groaned, from his voice to his muscles, while Tatsumaki appeared to be putting forth no effort at all.

As he gradually began sinking closer to the floor, Tatsumaki spoke up. "A person can only be so stubborn before it begins to look pitiful. Just do as I say. Get down on your knees, and I'll unburden your body before it breaks."

"Nnnnn...NNNNN…!" Bang's eyes were shut as tight as they could close. He held his fists out to either side, and much to Tatsumaki's amazement, his posture actually seemed to stretch up a bit taller.

"D-Don't be a fool, Silver Fang!" She yelled out her disbelief. "There's no version of this that ends with you winning! Stop this! Stop it before you really end up hurting yourself!"

Despite her words of warning, the master's shoulders continued to push up from the imposing force. Shredding lines began to tear through the sleeves of his shirt as he pushed his body to its utmost limits.

Panicked at what might happen if this kept up, Tatsumaki decided to put an end to this as fast as possible. However else she seemed to people, she didn't want to close off the night by sending her host away in an ambulance.

She threw out her other hand, preparing to flatten him against the wood.

Bang's eye shot open in time to see her adjust her posture. The fire burning in his pupil caused the esper to flinch, in spite of her advantage.

Just as he sensed the redoubled amount of force reach him, Bang instantly switched his stance to something else.

" _ **KAAAAH!"**_

Instead of falling flat as was Tatsumaki's intention, Bang shot up perfectly straight, and the floorboards all around his feet crunched and splintered into a crater around him.

A hush fell over the room. Everyone was confused by what they just witnessed.

Tatsumaki's jaw dropped when she realized what had happened. _'My_ _psychokinesis...'_ She continued watching as her opponent casually dusted himself off in front of her. _'...but how?! I didn't even feel_ _my link_ _break! Not like it did with...'_ She shifted her attention for a split second to glance at Saitama, who whistled at the result of their struggle.

Growling, Tatsumaki used her powers a second time on Bang, only for him to snap into a strangely different pose as soon as he felt the pressure hit him. Just as before, he slipped completely through her grasp, and the floor around him continued to suffer the consequence with another explosion of damage.

Each time she tried to put a psionic hold on him, he just assumed another one of those mysterious poses, and then her influence seemed to slide right off like water off a duck's ass.

After a final attempt to subdue him, Bang shrugged it off again, but this time, he vanished from view, appearing directly behind her and casually tapping her shoulder multiple times at once.

Tatsumaki's spine stiffened up at the sudden contact, her eyes gone wide as she heard his voice behind her.

"My personal record for precision blows is fourteen strikes in a second." He informed her. "Just now...I could have done a lot of damage to you, Tatsumaki." He walked his way around her, keeping both hands behind his back in his relaxed pose. Apart from his ruined shirt, he seemed none the worse for wear.

Tatsumaki dropped down on her knees – an irony that wasn't lost on anyone considering what she tried to get him to do. "H-How..." She slammed her hands down in front of her. " _HOW?!_ What keeps happening?! I hardly even felt you resist! So how the FUCKING, FUCKING, FUCKING, FUCKING FUCK did you slip through it so easily?!"

Bang and Saitama stood in front of her, waiting patiently for her to finish her meltdown and calm her breath before the seasoned teacher began to explain himself.

"I mentioned before that martial arts was about precision, not strength. You are far too reliant on your strength Tatsumaki. So reliant in fact that you don't even question where it comes from. Indeed you are powerful, but your power has made you arrogant. You never feel the need to improve, and that, my dear, is what martial arts is all about. It doesn't sit still or remain constant. It improves. Evolves. Adapts. The same way I had to adapt to your mental-based attacks. I merely looked for a small opening in your focus pattern; any distraction or diversion – even if I had to create it myself."

Her eyes shot open. "So that's why...those dumb poses?"

He nodded knowingly at her. "A bit of diversion, a lapse of focus, and I can create just enough leeway to move in a manner that your mind doesn't expect me to. Once I manage to find a doorway, all I needed to do was slip through. It's like turning the doorknob versus trying to kick the door down. If I had tried to escape using just my strength alone, I would have failed handily."

"But still..." She pondered. "You held on for so long even before doing that…"

"Oh that?" The man chuckled. "I suppose you can just chalk that up to good old fashioned willpower."

She frowned. _'Willpower…?'_

"You've been so good as to come visit me tonight, Tatsumaki, so it would be tragic to leave without a small piece of wisdom..." The old man turned and made his way past Saitama. "You should never look down on martial arts. I am telling you this not as a point of pride, or because you hurt my feelings...but for your own sake. There are people in this world who are younger than you..." he stopped and looked back at her from over the shoulder. "...yet stronger than me."

As the small psionic powerhouse fell silent while digesting Bang's words, he turned to look at Saitama, wondering if the hairless hero had caught his intention.

The costumed hero simply heaved a long sigh. "Well, the _dinner_ was uplifting anyway..." Saitama stepped up to where the esper was still brokenly mulling away at life's great mysteries on the floor. "You all good, sis?" He reached down and offered her his hand with a neutral expression on his face.

Tatsumaki was taken aback by this gesture for a moment. She looked at the hand...then up at him...then back at the hand.

Right as it looked like she was about to take it, her dazed face took on a pink blush of anger, and she smacked it away before bolting out the back door at record speed.

Genos stepped up to Saitama and Bang as the three stared at the door she just blew through.

"Seems she's taken a soul-searching journey to my sacred grove." Bang stated.

"You have a backyard?" Saitama looked surprised. "I thought this dojo was sitting on the razor's edge of a cliff."

"There is a winding pathway behind the building that leads to an enclosure with a koi pond and Inari shrine." The dojo master explained.

"I didn't even know you were Catholic, Coach!" Mizuki called out from behind.

The three men turned to stare at her, slightly numbed by her conclusion.

Bang was the first to blink. "...What?"

"...Anyway, if she were leaving for good, she probably would have taken the front entrance door." Genos calculated. "So it would seem that we are stuck with the spoiled twit for a bit longer."

Saitama rubbed his forehead. "Guess I'll go talk to her."

"Sensei…" Genos regarded him with worry. "Why always you?"

His idol looked back at his roommate for a few seconds before dismissing his concern and turning to stare at Bang. "This elevator of yours had better have some damn good music in it." Saitama spoke with a hint of salt.

Bang regarded him with confusion as Saitama walked over to pick something up and head out the door.

It was only after he left that the elder hero finally understood what he meant.

* * *

A ways down the pebble-paved path trailing behind the dojo, and a small oasis opened up. Obviously Tatsumaki didn't know it was there. She didn't intend to go looking for it. But once she flew into it, something strange – almost mystical – had dampened her stress.

Down the slope, a large thicket of bamboo stood cradling a lush, garden-like area complete with an enclave of small trees, a row of evenly spaced lanterns, a well-kept line of godly statues, and a stream of water flowing down the gradient through a sizable pond at its heart.

Despite the dusk, the area around was still visible, lit up not only by the lamps strategically placed along the path, but also by the natural lime green of fluttering fireflies. Never before had Tatsumaki seen nature and man-made construct come together to produce such a harmonious image.

She placed herself at the bank of the grove, realizing only when her feet had touched the gravel and fresh soil that she had forgotten to take her shoes with her. She cursed under her breath that she would have to go back inside to retrieve them, since there wasn't anyone back there she was in any real hurry to see again.

In just a few short days, her understanding of the world's natural order had been completely capsized. Up until the power outage a few nights back, the Tornado of Terror thought herself to be at the pinnacle of human potential. All threats of every disaster level fell at her feet. There was nothing she couldn't bend and break. No shelter anyone could take from her storm. No living organism that she couldn't bring terror to once they got that first taste of what she can do.

Then _he_ came along. And from there on out, things no longer made sense. Within the span of twelve hours, she learned that two people existed who could find a way to resist a direct psionic choke-hold from the apotheosis of mental mastery.

That Silver Fang was able to do it was an astounding feat, but in a way, it was easier to believe. He's older than the hills, but despite all appearances, he was Rank 3 for a reason. With enough experience and knowledge, she was sure that there weren't many problems that a tactical genius couldn't overturn.

The B-Class baldy, on the other hand, was just a big old question mark. And Tatsumaki had no love for riddles that she couldn't solve. He was different from Silver Fang. Far different. And no, not just because he looked like Picasso took an angry shit on a fast food mascot. It was how he handled the psychokinesis. He didn't slink his way through the psychic net - he shredded it. Like tissue paper. That wasn't technique. A person couldn't just teach themselves how to do that.

It wasn't a trick. It was power.

Raw,

full-blown,

and absolute.

So if a person like him – this seeming nobody from Class B – could withstand the might of a tempest...then what else could he do?

The question made a chill run over Tatsumaki's spine, causing her to bite down on her lip. She crouched down and wrapped her arms around her knees while gazing off into the water to watch the exotic-looking fish swim. Strangely, the more time she spent in this spot, the less she wanted to leave. It was as if every extraordinary feature that the vacuous dojo was lacking had all been relegated right here.

Deciding to take her heavy mind off of today's tumultuous events, she spotted some small stones out of the corner of her eye that she figured would make a good enough distraction.

The one sitting at the top of the pile floated up into the air, brought close to the esper's eye so that she could take aim. With a small green spark of energy, she blasted the stone over the surface of the pond, successfully skipping it across the full twelve meters of width.

Giving off a small smirk of satisfaction, she was in the process of lifting the second stone when a voice from behind nearly caused her to jump into the pond instead.

"Well this place certainly looks eco-friendly..."

"HWAHfusakarusakajushit!" She instinctively arched up like a cat, almost as if trying to make herself look bigger to predators. "Wh-what the fuck are you doing sneaking up on people like that! You want me to mail your shining dumb ass to another dimension?!"

"Yikes, bite my head off..." Saitama held his arms up to show he didn't mean any harm. "Look I'm sorry, okay?" After a series of long seconds, he finally saw the first signs of her lowering her defense, but not before shooting him a baleful scowl to let him know how unwelcome he was.

He decided to take himself slow, as if cautiously approaching to help a very injured, very pissed off wolverine (not a lot of difference if we're being honest). He crouched down on the bank a few good paces from her position, taking a long moment to listen to the cadence of crickets and cicadas. Tatsumaki didn't seem all that eager to break the radio silence between them, and in fact seemed instead to do her best pretending he wasn't really there.

Not knowing how else to say what he came here to, he heaved an audible sigh meant for her to hear. "Here. You left these back at the hut."

Against her wishes, the esper turned her head in time to see him set out a familiar pair of black shoes on the space between them. She looked up at him, only to see his head facing away and fixed out towards the pond.

Rather than deliver a ceremonious word of gratitude, she straightened herself up as if the favor offended her. "Hmph." Nevertheless, the shoes automatically floated up to her spot, where she could better claim them.

"That old guy...sure packs an interesting collection of mantras, doesn't he?" Saitama piped up, trying hard to find a subject they both related to. "Makes me think all he does in his free time is read fortune cookies..."

Tatsumaki hugged her knees closer to her chest, levitating another stone to resume her private game of no-handed rock-skipping. "...He's a fossil with one too many cracks in the husk." She muttered bitterly.

"You think so?" Saitama scratched himself. "Because I don't think he's the one you're really mad at." Her shoulders shivered slightly, but he noticed it enough to pause. "Is he?"

It took a long minute of silence before she finally answered, "...How do you figure?"

"...Is this by any chance because I'm stronger than you?"

That fucking did it.

She felt her emotions flare up in her chest all at once, prompting her to spin around and give him a piece. "Wow, did you really put that all together without hurting yourself?! I'm impressed!"

He gave her a sad frown. "No need to get snippy..."

"No, seriously, I mean it! Congratu-fuckin'-lations! You managed to pinpoint the universal source of every single one of my frustrations within a single stupid bald head! World-class detective work!"

"What did I ever do to make you hate me this much?"

"Everything!" She flew up and grabbed him by the front of his suit to echo her answer in his face. "You did _everything._ Everything's gone to shit since I met you. First you got on my ass, then your boyfriend works up the nuts and bolts to get on my ass, then the hero executives got on my ass, then my fucking _sister_ gets her turn, and now Silver Fang just threw a grand _parade_ on my ass!"

"Wait...so you're upset at me for being the first person to stand up to you?"

"I…! That's…!" She bit her tongue. Coming from the way he put it made her seem a lot more like a bully than she intended, and she realized to her own disgust that there was no real way she could spin it differently.

She let go of his uniform and turned to face away.

"Just go home." She told him without looking back. "Leave me alone. Forget we ever met. It's...It's just better that way."

A long silence passed since she said that. So long in fact that she was sure he had listened to her and left.

…

…

"Make me."

Her eyes shot open, and sure turned to see him still standing here. "Wh-what did you say to me?"

"Got a piece of spinach in your ear? I said make me. Go on. Use your magic to throw me off this hill." He flashed her a taunting smile. "Or would you prefer to run off with your tail tucked under again?"

She quickly forgot her shock and went straight back to anger. "You've got a real pair of huevos, huh Humpty?! You think that just because you're _kinda_ strong means you can do or say whatever the fuck you want?!"

His smile left his face. "I don't mean to call you a hypocrite...but isn't that sort of the way _you've_ been living up to now?"

"Sh-shut up! That's different! I have my reasons! You just wouldn't understand them, so I don't bother to explain!"

His face molded into a disapproving glare, and while she would do anything but admit it, the idea that she might have actually made him angry made her more than a little weak in the knees.

Just as it looked like he was ready to deck her, he did something entirely new.

"Hah...Haha...Haa haa haa haa! Ahahahaa haa haa!"

Riled up by his sudden burst of laughter, she gave him an astonished look. "H-Hey! What're you laughing at?!"

"Aaaah..." It was almost unsettling how fast he calmed down. "You know...just now, you sounded like every single kid who beat me up for my lunch money back in middle school."

"Don't talk to me like I'm one of those parasites! Like me or not, my job is to protect people! Just like I did when I got rid of the train that _you_ showed up too late to deal with earlier!"

He rubbed his head. "Ah. My bad. I guess I had my hands a little full managing the other two."

She put her hands to her hips in a victory power pose. "Ha! See? I'm a better hero than you after al—whaaaaaaaat do you mean by 'other two'?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "Thought you knew. That guy targeted three trains. Had me going helter-skelter all over the place after them."

"N-No way! You're lying! There's no way—"

"You can read all about it in tomorrow's paper if you want." He insisted.

Tatsumaki's voice cracked from out of her dumbfounded mouth. "W-well..." she stammered, trying to salvage her credit. "I-I've still been a hero waaaaaay longer than you have, baldy! I was protecting the weak while you were still worrying about school!"

His face took on a solemn demeanor. "Oh, I see." He knelt down and picked up one of the other stones Tatsumaki had been eyeing. Staring out at the moonlit pond again, he continued his rumination. "Then I wonder if you would have done the same for me...as that weak little kid back in middle school." He turned to peer back at her. "It would certainly put me more at ease...to think of you as a hero rather than one of the bullies that used to pick on us little guys."

She gave him a baffled look, taking longer to process this than it should be. It was something to think that a person who could go toe-to-toe with her had once been beaten down too. Regardless, her eyes narrowed with cynicism. It's not like that suddenly made his childhood any more of a fuckfest than hers. "I guess this is the part where I'm supposed to feel bad for you?"

He gave her a passive stare before skipping his stone across the water. It bounced twice.

"Why would I want people to feel bad? That doesn't seem like something a hero would want."

"Hmph!" She crossed her arms. "You think that just because you dress up in that generic-ass costume, you get to lecture me on what it means to be a hero?"

Saitama thought about her question for a few silent minutes, crouching down over the pond and watching the lightning bugs dance in the gentle night breeze. "...The definition of a hero." He mumbled, as if in some sort of a trance.

She raised her eyebrows. "Huh?"

"The definition of a hero," Saitama repeated, "is someone who is concerned about other people's well-being, and will go out of his or her way to help them..." He slowly looked over, giving her a deathly serious face as he emphasized with a hardened voice, "...even if there is no chance of a reward." He rose to his feet and slowly walked toward her – each step making her pull a bit further back.

"Wh-what are you doing?" She asked, feeling her heart rate pick up at his approach. As he got closer, she saw them come back. All those serious features she saw on him before. His eyes...his mouth...his cheekbones...goddamn it, even his nose. Somehow he suddenly looked so...

"That person," he continued unabated, "a person who helps others simply because it _**should**_ or _**must**_ be done, and because it is the right thing to do..."

Tatsumaki gasped when she realized that he had backed her into a tree. She watched helplessly as he stepped straight up to her, inches in front of her face.

"...is indeed without a doubt...a real superhero." He concluded.

Her pupils trembled as she struggled to find the right words. "That was so..."

Before she could finish, all of his polished features popped back into non-existence, replaced by his painfully simple eyes and mouth. "Oh you like it?" He asked in his normally light voice. "I like it too."

As if mirroring his facial transformation, Tatsumaki gave him a cartoonishly underwhelmed look of her own. "Eh…?"

Saitama turned back to the pond, crouching down to pick up a stick and poke something in the water. "I wish I could claim credit for coming up with that myself...but I didn't. My role model did."

She blinked at him with confusion. "Role model? _You_ have a role model?"

"Well yeah. Doesn't everyone? Don't you?"

The esper spat. "Me?! Pff...hell no. Of course not."

"Oh really? Not even that Blast guy?"

Tatsumaki's tough exterior shattered big time. "Wha-what?!"

Saitama shrugged. "I just thought he seemed important to you, given the way you stared at his empty seat during that hero meeting."

She gave him a mortified look. "...You saw that…?"

"Sure did." Given by how he still seemed distracted with whatever he was prodding in the pond, he clearly didn't believe it was as big of a deal as her. Something at the tip of the stick he was fishing with croaked and jumped out of the water, scaring the ever-living shit out of the esper while Saitama merely smiled. "Yaaaay a frog popped out."

"Ugh! _God_ you're weird!" She held a hand to her chest to calm herself down.

"Yeah well sticks-and-stones." He replied. "See? Stick," he showed her the object he was holding, "Stone." He picked up another rock and skipped it across the water. This time it hit three paces.

Reluctantly following suite, Tatsumaki telekinetically retrieved another stone of her own and blasted it across the water. Again, she perfectly sent it skipping all the way to the other end of the bank.

Saitama pouted at her superior technique, but quickly forgot when she asked, "So I take it your [air quotation marks] 'role model' is stronger than you?" She cracked a teasing smile. "Just don't tell me it's King or some shit..."

He gave her a funny look. "Uhh...no. But since you asked, yes, the guy I look up to is stronger than me. He's protected me ever since I was a child."

"So he like, what. Shared his sandwich crusts with you after you lost your lunch money?"

Saitama gave Tatsumaki a tired leer. "...Never mind."

She shrugged indifferently. "Fine. Guess I'll just have to ask him instead, won't I."

This earned a sour chuckle from the bald hero. "It wouldn't be easy…" He explained. "He passed away last year."

All traces of amusement left the tiny esper's face. "Oh..."

"Yeah, he wasn't a hero in the traditional sense. Actually...he was better."

She looked up at him. "How so?"

Saitama furrowed his lip wondering how to explain it to her. "Well...you know anything about comics? Alloy Man? The Savage Badger? Your Friendly Neighborhood Arachno-Boy?"

She crinkled up her nose. "Thought that shit was for children."

He frowned. "You must be a real killer at parties."

"Just get to the point, will you?"

He rolled his eyes, but did as she said. "Well...coming home from that ramshackle school every day – bruised and beaten, uniform all dirty and torn up, missing a shoe – I would throw myself on my bed and switch on the TV. Superhero culture was my only escape. I guess it made me forget who I was, which let me stop hating myself for being so helpless. Well...until the episodes ended, anyway." He spaced out while staring down at his reflection rippling in rings on the water. "Man, it sucks growing up. Having to watch the few people you really related to drop out of your life. Now I'll never see him at another convention. I'll never see him make another cameo in the next picture. And you know...I can't even feel sad about it. Just...strange. I dunno."

She gave him an odd look. "Your role model was a comic-book and cartoon creator?"

He let out a bitter smirk. "I suppose this is the part where you laugh."

She scoffed rustically. "Please. I've had shitty enough luck as it is without besmirching the dead."

He tilted his head at her, unsure of what to think. "You won't laugh? Huh. That's uncharacteristically mature of you..."

Hostility broke across her face again. "Ha ha ha ha…" She simulated laughter just to spite him before picking up another stone with her mind. " _Fuck_ you." She called out markedly as she instinctively blew it over the water, once again skipping it all the way to the other side. She turned to give him a shrew-like smirk. "Ha." She finalized.

Picking up a stone of his own, Saitama stuck his tongue out and shut one eye in concentration as he wound his arm up and let his rock fly. This time it skipped six times.

Ecstatic with his improvement, Saitama flexed his arm at her and yelled back, "Ha—HA!"

Tatsumaki went next. Another perfect trip across the pond. "Ha, ha— _HA!_ " She boasted again.

Possessed by the spirit of competition, Saitama reached out at something behind him, and Tatsumaki's eyes widened in horror as the shadow of a gigantic boulder eclipsed her form. "A-Are you fucking serious?!"

Hoisting the impossibly large chunk of sediment over his head, Saitama's face was the frenzied picture of lunacy as he loudly went "HAHAHAHAHAHA" before lobbing the mass into the pond, creating a thunderous splash and blasting all the water out of it in one fell tidal wave.

Tatsumaki, no fan of getting wet, was quick to clear out of dodge. Saitama didn't manage to dodge a thing.

The esper came back to find him drenched and dripping, but looking somehow pleased with himself.

"Did I win?" He asked with a clueless smile.

"...You killed the pond." She answered with a dark look.

Saitama took a minute to do a slow double-take between her, the empty crater he just left, and every statue he fucked up in between before somehow concluding "...So that means I _did_ win?"

"Yep. You did." She grinned derisively. "You won the World Idiot Award. And I bet Silver Fang's gonna turn your asshole into a flashlight when he finds out what you did to his yard."

Saitama's smile deflated into a silent scream of alarm. "W-we should probably get going." He decided for himself, already rushing up the path and hoping to be out of there before the pond owner comes out to feed his recently evicted fish. "Fun's over."

"Yeah and whose fucking fault is that, Pebbles?" She called while hovering after him.

"Whatever partner, let's just make like a banana and split."

"Wait...what?" Tatsumaki stopped gliding with him for a moment to pick up on something she had forgotten. "HOLD IT RIGHT THERE!" She screamed at him, causing Saitama to screech on his heels to a halt.

"What, dude?! Now's not the time!" He tried reasoning with her.

"Now is _exactly_ the time." She corrected. "Just now, you called me your partner."

"Yeah? So?"

She rolled her eyes at his cluelessness. "I never agreed to be your partner."

His jaw dropped. "What? Why not?"

She fumbled around for something in her dress. Somehow, the question she had been hoping to ask him all afternoon but never quite had the courage to came surprisingly easy for her now. She wondered to herself if it was because of the...well... _tiny_ breakthrough they just shared.

Finally finding what she was feeling around for, she held a piece of paper up to him as if she were a cop busting him for a high-class felony. "I'm not agreeing to anything with you until you explain _this._ "

"Where were you even hiding that?" He asked with his eyes shooting daggers of suspicion.

A streak of color stretched over her face from embarrassment. "D-Don't change the subject, that isn't important!" She unfolded the paper to reveal the evaluation sheet he had slipped in with the sweets the day before. "You expect me to act like we're friends just because you gave me candy? Well let me tell you something, _S_ _tranger_ _D_ _anger,_ I'm not setting one toe in your shady paneled van until you give me a straight answer." She leaned in authoritatively, waving the paper in front of his face. "And this time, you had better make it a better reason than this 'heroes try' shit."

"Are you kidding me? I spent all day thinking I'd won you over because of that heartfelt picture I drew of us together!"

The Tornado of Terror's face fell into pure disgust at the suggestion. "Are _you_ kidding _me?_ This autistic mess? I could've done a better job drawing with my feet!"

"But it took me like three hours to finish the shading on your upper lip!"

"Explain yourself, goddamn it! Why are you after me? What do you want?" She gasped as if realizing something critical. Instinctively covering up her chest, she asked him accusingly. "Is it my body?! Oh my god, it is, isn't it?! You're after my body, aren't you!"

Saitama gave her a straight face. "Um. Gross? And no."

She blinked very rapidly for a few seconds, unsure of whether to be relieved or offended by this lifeless reaction. "F-Fine...then why do you wanna be my partner so badly? Anyone else would claw their way through a broken window just to get away from me, but you of all people say 'yes please'?! What the hell's wrong with you?!"

Saitama massaged his temples, trying his best to keep from being the next person to claw through that broken proverbial window she just explained. "Looking past the headache you just gave me from all your screaming, I'll tell you one more story."

He straightened himself up, counting backwards a few time in his head just to make sure he was remembering everything okay. Tatsumaki crossed her arms in waiting.

"See, a while back, I was doing some shopping." He began. "When I headed home, I saw a giant monster attacking a little girl. I turned to run someplace hidden to get my suit on, but I noticed you flying in. You rung the monster's fluids out like a wet towel and then crumpled its body up like a spitball. Which looked pretty awesome, and for some reason made me really, r _eally_ hungry..."

She raised her eyes skeptically. "You want to team up with me because I killed a monster. Sounds pretty superficial to me..."

"That's because you didn't let me finish." Saitama pointed out.

Tatsumaki puffed up her face with impatience, but managed to reign herself in and motion for him to continue.

"You killed the monster, sure. But what really stood out to me was what happened after that. The girl thanked you for saving her and said that she wanted to be a hero just like you when she grew older. You played the compliment off like it was no big deal...but you couldn't hide that look in your eye from me. It was the same child-like enthusiasm I saw in the smile of someone else I know."

"Some other stupid friend of yours, I'm guessing?" She asked.

Saitama put a finger to his lip, as if deciding. "Uhhhh..."

* * *

 **Two Days Ago...**

" _Kukukukuku. Today's the day, Saitama! I can feel it!"_

 _The bald hero casually weaved his way around the flurries of bladed swipes that were seeking to lop off his head._

" _You again, dude?" Saitama spoke with a hint of annoyance. "Don't you have a brother to take revenge on for murdering your clan or something?"_

" _Jokes won't win you your life back!" The lightning-fast ninja had a **very scary** 'child-like' smile. With sadistic glee, he unsheathed another sword from his back after the caped hero took liberties to demolish the ninth one since the fight started. "After I separate your shining head from its body, it's going straight up on my wall! And when I throw you into Hell, be sure to tell the devil it was Speed-o'-Sound Sonic who sent you there, my dear friend!"_

 _my dear friend…_

 _dear friend…_

 _ **friend…**_

* * *

"Uhhhh, yeah, sure. I guess you could say he's a friend...of mine..." Saitama concluded hesitantly while scratching his cheek.

She wasn't sure why he looked so nervous while trying to decide where this guy stood in his social circle.

"Anyway, my point is," he cleared his throat to get back on track, "I could tell that there was nothing else in the world you'd rather do than be a hero. Even though you can be snarky, I have a little trouble standing by and watching people sacrifice their passion because of a stupid grudge."

"Mmm..." Tatsumaki stared off into the distance to absorb what he just said. She turned her back to him for several minutes as she continued drifting in the open air.

Saitama took that as a sign that his reason for helping her didn't meet her standards. After a few more minutes of watching her back, he sighed in surrender and silently started to make his way back towards the dojo.

"I hope you know what you're doing." He heard her voice echo from behind.

He turned to see her facing him again with her arms confidently put to her hips. "What?" He asked.

She flew in closer to him, the green glow of her body outshining all of the fireflies passing by. "Sticking yourself with me as a partner. I'll bet you won't last a single day."

He regarded her with his soft, vague expression. "If I can deal with Genos's OCD, I think I can hold up fine against you, Tatsu."

"Wh- did you just call me Tatsu?!" She spat indignantly. "Look, if you're gonna address me by name, use my whole name!"

"Sorry, Tats."

"Holy shit, that's way worse!" She looked at him as though she just ate something incredibly sour. "I'd sooner be called 'Tatsu' before I let anyone call me _that_ ever again!"

Saitama gave her a playful smile as he turned around to ring some water out of his cape.

"By the way..." he brought up as the two ascended the trail together, "I noticed that you were one of the only people who didn't laugh when I told everyone my goal back at the dojo." He raised his eyebrow at her. "What was up with that? Could it be that you're finally starting to take me more seriously now?"

She snorted at the absurdity. "Get over yourself. You're just not as funny as you think you are, that's all."

"Fiiiine, I get it." He groaned, resting his hands together behind his head. "Be that way. Jerk."

"Bitch."

* * *

The two re-entered the dojo, looking around to see Genos and Lily cleaning up the table. Charanko, who had yet to regain consciousness, had his sleeping head cradled neatly in Mizuki's lap. It would seem that despite her rough features, the amazon still had a maternal instinct or two tucked beneath those thick muscles.

The arriving duo was first greeted by Bang. "I trust all is well again?" He asked them.

Saitama and Tatsumaki exchanged glances before the former replied, "We worked some stuff out."

"Not that it's any of your business..." The esper added in a mutter, avoiding eye-contact with the old-timer that had earlier wounded her pride.

Bang's shoulders seemed to shake up and down as he laughed. "Hoho...I'm glad." He opened his eye to give Saitama a more careful look. "And why are you all wet? What happened?"

Remembering the reason he was in such a hurry to leave, Saitama's posture spiked up. "Rain!" He blurted. "Rain happened."

"Huh… That's strange..." Bang thought scrupulously. "I didn't _hear_ any rain..."

"Really? Wow, weird! Must be that global warming acting up again." Saitama replied with a big nervous smile. "Anyways, I've got a thing to do...at a place. Bye now!" He turned to call over to his roommate. "Come, Genos, it's time to leave. Drop what you're doing."

The cyborg paused to peer at him while holding a towering stack of plates. "Dropping what I am doing would be hazardous for these dishes."

"Ah, you're leaving?" Bang asked. "Very well. Don't be such strangers. It was good to see you come up."

Saitama's panic intensified as he watched the elder head out the door they just came in from. "Wait, where are you going…?"

Bang turned to look back at him. "Why, to make my evening offering to Inari and thank him for such favorable company."

Before the bald hero could protest, Bang had disappeared out the door.

Sweat started running down his face as he quietly asked Tatsumaki, "Do you happen to remember which of the statues out there belonged to a guy named 'Inari'?"

The esper shrugged carelessly. "They all look the same to me...especially now since you crushed every single one of them into powder when you threw that huge rock."

Saitama's face dropped several palettes of color. "Eyyyyyyyeah, sounds about right."

Suddenly a booming voice echoed all the way out from the lower yard. "MOTHER OF GOD! WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO MY SACRED GROVE?!"

Charanko shot straight up in sitting position, startled awake by the distressed noise. He looked all around briefly before spotting Mizuki sitting right next to him. She gave him a wide, timid smile, holding her hand up in a small wave. "Haha… Hiiii."

Saitama wasn't waiting around to be gutted. "Genos, we are leaving NOW."

"Master, without expeditious sanitary attention, the rate at which bacteria multiplies on food residue can become toxic in as little as—"

"NOW GENOS. CHOP CHOP."

The cyborg carefully placed the stack of dishes back on the table, glancing apologetically at Lily who had just finished wiping down the surface.

Saitama turned urgently towards Tatsumaki, who looked as calm as ever. "Hey, is there some way that you can use your alien powers to beam us up out of here or something?"

Tatsumaki sucked in her teeth at his gross misconception of her abilities, but ignored it to say, "I guess I can..."

Relief washed over Saitama's face. "Sweet! Ohh thank you, thank you so—"

"What are you thanking me for?"

There was something about the way she asked this question that didn't sit too well with the caped hobbiest. "Eh..?"

She raised a pointed finger to clarify. "I said I _can._ I didn't say I _would._ "

His teeth started to chatter uncontrollably. "Y-y-y-you can't be serious…! I thought we were partners!"

"And as your partner..." she flew up to give his cheek a few stilted pats and whisper in his ear, "I'd advise that you start running."

In the blink of an eye, she shot out the door, nearly blasting it off the hinges.

"She left me!" Saitama expressed his outrage while dashing out the door after her with Genos in tow. "I can't believe it! After all the rocks we skipped together!"

Genos couldn't remember the last time he felt this confused, but he nevertheless followed his master wherever he went.

As the two left, Charanko continued leering incredulously at the brawnier woman who was shyly rubbing her head. "Were you...was I…" He struggled to keep his words together. "Was I just in your _lap?_ "

Mizuki seemed to shrink a bit from seeing the disgust on his face. "Uhh...I was just..." she poked her fingers together coyly. "You would've strained your neck if I left you on the floor like that..."

Charanko took a moment to recount the events before he woke up. He slipped a hand up to his cheek, wincing when his fingers came up to the large throbbing welt that had formed. Opening his mouth in outrage, he pointed at her. "You mean after you knocked me out!"

She closed her eyes in a sharp wince at his condemning words. She actually looked like she was about to cry. "I...I didn't mean to…!" She snuffled.

Charanko almost felt bad seeing her like that. But he wasn't about to let guilt outweigh the indignity of being injured twice in one evening – by a _girl,_ no less.

"I don't care!" He stood up, smoothing out the wrinkles in his uniform. "I told you not to come near me. Because you see what happens? You're nothing but trouble."

"Hey!" Lily spoke up angrily, hearing the dispute from afar. "What's your problem? She was just trying to help!"

Charanko snapped his head to look at her. "That _is_ my problem! I don't _want_ her help!"

Lily crossed her arms and gave him a disdainful look. It was apparently enough to get the boy to back down.

He raised his arms in the air and breathed out a scoff. "Jeez, I get it. I'm going to bed. Welcome to the dojo...or whatever." He turned and marched out of the room, leaving the two girls behind.

Mizuki remained on her knees, feeling the hands she rested on top of them shake. "Orange-haired Guy hates me..." She quivered.

"Hey..." Lily laid a soft hand on the bigger girl's shoulder. "No one hates you."

" _He_ does..." Mizuki stood up to her full height. "And I mean...why shouldn't he...?" She spun around to run out the other side of the room, holding her hands to her face as she cried, " _...I'm not even girly!_ "

Again apparently forgetting the etiquette of using doors, the athlete crashed through the wall, forming another life-sized hole right next to the one she made earlier during introductions.

Lily rubbed the back of her neck. "Oh man..." She muttered.

She somberly turned back to the dishes that Genos had left for her, intent on finishing where he left off. As she carried the load of dirty plates to the washroom, she silently contemplated on her Boss Fubuki – wondering what her icon would do to fix what was wrong.

* * *

"Achwoo~"

The taller of two espers rubbed her nose, shaking off the recoil of her sneeze as she slipped through the heavy double door into an empty Blizzard Headquarters.

Her eyes felt heavy and crusty from all the tears she spilled since her altercation with her estranged older sibling.

She shambled through the large entrance hall, sliding her coat from her shoulders and letting it haphazardly fall to the floor without even turning back to hang it up.

After a slow and arduous climb up the grand stairway, she made her way to the bathroom sink and stared at herself in the mirror.

No one likes to cry. But especially when they choose to wear eye makeup. Dried streaks of black were coursing down her cheeks, and her eyes were still puffy.

"Ugh...you look fugly." Fubuki muttered at her reflection.

It was fitting, anyway. She felt like shit; why shouldn't she _look_ the part?

As she turned the sink faucet on and splashed fresh water on her face to wash off the mess, she could have sworn she heard the doorbell ring, but decided to ignore it.

After she finished refreshing her face, all Fubuki wanted to do was get comfortable. She made her way to a lavish living area, preparing to sit down before she heard the bell ring again.

She growled irritably, company being the last thing on this unholy planet that she wanted right now. Hoping they would get the idea and give up, she went over to pour herself some herbal tea, and just as she started dipping the pot into her cup, the doorbell rang out a third time, causing the cup to fall from her hand and shatter against the floor.

"Agh! Angels and ministers of grace, fucking _KILL ME!_ " She screamed at the ceiling, causing the chandelier to rattle slightly.

Straightening her arms to her sides with her hands balled into fists, she power-walked to the door, promising herself to do her best not to lunge through and claw the eyes out of whoever was there before she even bothered to look.

She stopped in front of the tall entrance and took a deep breath…

In through the nose…

Out through the mouth.

She wrapped her fingers around the ornate door handle and pulled it ajar.

She didn't see anyone outside. She looked left. She looked right.

Just as she prepared to head back inside, she heard a voice call out from below.

"Psst."

She turned her head down forty-five degrees.

The source of the greeting came from inside a large cardboard box which had a sign on it that said _'Free for Adoption'_ along with a few tiny paw prints lovingly pressed on to the side.

Fubuki's mouth unconsciously hung open at the sight of the highly popularized dog suit worn by the hero who had made almost as much money off of merchandise as Sweet Mask did.

The careless, deadpan face of the canine mascot looked up at the woman with beady black eyes. "What's up...New Owner." Resting both paws up on the edge of the box he was tightly tucked in, a pudgy tail wagged vibrantly behind him while the rest of his body sat still.

In her stupor, all the esper could think to utter at the moment was her partner's name.

" _...Watch_ _d_ _og Man?"_

 **A/N: Boy you would just not believe how happy I am to finally be done with this chapter. I meant to post this earlier, but the holidays sure fixed that wagon.**

 **If the commemoration wasn't at all obvious, we lost quite a guy late last year. And I gotta tell you, friends...that one hurt. But he was getting up there, and it wasn't entirely unexpected. Still – the movies won't be quite the same to me without spotting his gorgeous mug in them. Ever since I found out, I wanted to honor his memory in this story, since hey – it's hero culture. And what did our old pal teach us, if not what defines a real hero. I thought that would do well to play into Saitama's personal development into the bald wonder we all know and love, and it happened to compliment his canonical backstory as a child too.**

 **Excelsior – "Ever Upward, Still Higher."**

 **Rest in peace, Stan.**


	8. Hello to Spring

**A/N: He lives.**

 **So I am aware that yes, it has been long since I updated. I have excuses. Ohhhh, I have excuses.**

 **But while I could choose to buff my wordcount bitching about the swing shift of my new job that kept me from my glorious nights of wordsmithery (Is that a word? Meh), I think I'll instead choose to highlight some milestones that I myself am quite proud of.**

 **Since my last chapter came out, a few notable firsts have happened.**

 **I hit a milestone of over 300 favorites, which is already more than the Spartans had in their army. Now say what you will – I think having more fans than an army had soldiers is a baller thing indeed. That put, thank you all for being my Spartan Army. Your patience and understanding is a fundamental part of what makes me want to see this story live and thrive.**

 **I also got my first plagiarist! A Brazilian one, no less! And while you might be thinking "dafaaaaaq?" I do consider it an honor all its own that someone thought my story was worth the effort to take that ballsy swing. Having said so, please do not be a shameless cunt and start duplicating my work unless you plan on giving your author due credit. Thank you. :) Also, big shout-out to the awesome secret police force I apparently have for catching wind of the plagiarist and making him take it down before I even knew it was a problem. That's some loyalty you can't buy. Mad thankful for _Assault1337_ and his/her squad!**

 **I also received my first honorable mention in another writer's story. Definitely not something I ever expected to get, but it is a damn fine privilege. Thank you, _Bacrep_ , for lending your unbelievable support.**

 **Now that the gooey stuff is mopped out of the way...**

 **Chapter 8: Hello to Spring**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own One-Punch Man.**

" **BEHOLD!"**

A great voice boomed over the city with such antipathy that it shook the very earth itself and enervated the thousands of civilians unfortunate enough to hear it.

As if in affront to nature itself, the sky began to twist, crack, and peel – bloody red replacing baby blue, piece by fracturing piece. The clouds billowed violently before parting like a lofty curtain. A large crimson portal encircled by countless indiscernible runes suddenly replaced the sun, bathing everything beneath it in a sinister red hue.

"I AM THE PROPHECY OF DOOM THAT YOUR SEERS HAVE FORESEEN. I AM THE HERALD OF THE MORNING STAR..."

A colossal, humanoid hand reached out of the portal, as though it were clawing its way out of a bloody womb. Another hand soon followed, grabbing on to the other side of the celestial rift. The rest of the figure promptly emerged, revealing what appeared to be a moving, immaculately sculpted statue of a man.

"I...AM... _ **DOMINUS!**_ "

At the shout of his name, the rift that he had slipped through exploded behind him with a visceral splatter. Some red fluid which could only be perceived as blood proceeded to fly from the burst in all directions, raining down steaming hot gore on the poor inhabitants below.

The effect of the numen's presence was immediate: the standing rivers of people below scattered in all directions, jostling, tripping, and stepping on friends and strangers alike to get clear of the obvious threat. Even floating high over the air, the sheer size of him generated mass hysteria. The entity was beyond massive – bearing uncanny resemblance to the Colossus of Rhodes. As he descended closer to land, all who dared look upon him amidst the noise and confusion could see the white roman cloth adorning his frame, elegantly draped over one shoulder and flowing down his form. In accordance with his theme, his handsome and well-groomed head was crowned with a gilded laurel wreath, representing his apparent sovereignty.

In one hand, he held out a long staff, at the head of which sat a curious symbol – similar to an ankh. The features of his face were totally inanimate. He didn't blink, or even move his mouth as he spoke. Yet despite appearing to be made completely out of stone, the rest of his body seemed to be fully supple – as demonstrated when he pointed his rod at a section of tall buildings, casting a scorching ray of blinding light that promptly burned an entire section of the city off the map.

"IN AGES PAST, LONG HAVE MORTALS PROSTRATED THEIR HEADS IN SERVICE TO THE GODS." The great titan touched onto the ground, creating chasms underfoot and causing the city to rumble at the strain of his weight. "THEY PAID TRIBUTES...HELD BLOODY BANQUETS...EVEN SACRIFICED COUNTLESS OF THEIR FELLOW COUNTRYMEN – ALL IN THE NAME OF MY GREATNESS." The being that called itself Dominus turned his head to face a tall building, still under construction and surrounded by cranes. At the top sat the familiar golden mound that had previously marked Zeniru's great 'Shit-Scraper' tower. Apparently the millionaire wasn't about to give up the prospect of expansion after just a few dozen assassination attempts.

The towering god-like statue stared mutely at the shining golden turd for a few good seconds before turning back and continuing. "AND NOW I RETURN TO SEE THAT THE SONS OF INDUSTRY HAVE SULLIED THE GOOD SOIL WITH ICONOCLASM AND HERESY. NO LONGER DO MORTALS REMEMBER GODS. NO LONGER DO THEY REMEMBER THEIR PLACE." Taking his scepter in both hands, he held it high over his head, and the unsettling hum of magic filled the air. _"_ AND THAT IS WHY _...I_ _COME_ _FORTH_ _TO REMIND THEM!"_ A deafening pang of metal rang out as he slammed the bottom of the shaft into the ground, creating a gigantic shockwave that sprang forth in front of him, uprooting and decimating everything along its path.

Dominus's eyes, including an apparent third eye that was hidden at the center of his forehead, began glowing red in unison. The three triangulating points let out a blinding flash, after which a series of orbs erupted out of his face, blasting every damnable thing in his sight.

" **WITNESS!"**

The crimson projectiles hit all of their marks handily, resulting in numerous explosions and many deaths.

" **COWER!"**

A scarlet beam caught many buildings in a straight line, cutting through all of them at once as easily as a knife through butter. Decades of progress were undone in an instant, sliding apart like ribbon.

"AND PROSTRATE YOURSELVES ONCE MORE! FOR _I_... _ **AM…!**_ "

"Annoying!" Someone else heckled, somehow managing to cut off his epic, roaring voice. "Shut. The fuck. _Up!_ " On the last emphasized word, a titanic cluster of rubble collided with the towering deity from his flank, only to be deflected by some manner of invisible barrier just before impact. Nevertheless, the shock of the recoil caused him to stagger back, forcing him to one knee before he could regain his posture.

As he turned his expressionless face towards the direction of the offender, many more rocks came hurdling his way in a huge volley. He raised his forearms in defense, staving off the attack as the stones crumbled into mere dust against him.

The colossus grunted in mild surprise as more fragments of the landscape he just laid waste to rose up from behind him almost in revenge, encased in a curious green glow. The barrage continued.

As he set about repeating his simple strategy to block them off, the trajectory of the flying rubble conspicuously adjusted course – quickly parting to the side just before making contact with him, resulting in a raging swirl of debris that swept him unwittingly up into its center. The storm grew so violent that it became impossible to see where the titan was past the swirling wind – that was, until the three red orbs representing his eyes flashed clear through. On cue, the entire torrent was blown apart by another powerful beam, freeing him from the trap with not so much as a single crack in his stony aspect.

As the fractured rocks around him fell, he delivered a single, mighty sweep of his arm. With a brisk howl, the wind obeyed, carrying away the surrounding cloud of dust that encroached his view.

A half-mile off, he spotted something floating in the air – a mere speck of lint on the wind compared to his magnificent breadth. Even so, his all-seeing eyes caught every offending feature on the small creature's face as clearly as they would if she were right in front of him.

Tatsumaki sneered upon sensing his lifeless leer bearing down on her. It was an unsavory feeling that made her hairs stand on end. Like being undressed by the eyes of a depraved pervert.

The very city itself seemed to hold its breath while the two stared each other down for another moment. The crackle of the deity's voice shattered the stillness looming in the air. "CURSED BE THE ONE TO CAST THE FIRST STONE." The towering immortal drummed menacingly as he tightened his grip against the gilded bar of his staff. "HAVE YOU COME TO MEASURE YOURSELF AGAINST THE HEEL THAT CRUSHES YOU, CHILD?"

"Measure?" The esper raised an eyebrow, seemingly offended by the word choice. "Oh wow. Plenty of assholes have taken shots at my size before, but this might be the first time a pigeon-shat _statue_ gave me a go. Some special snowflake _you_ are, David."

A halo of furious red light draped around the goliath's head, expressing his unappreciation for the esper's words. His porcelain mouth opened up for the first time, revealing a glowing ball of vermilion fire within as he bellowed. "I AM _DOMINUS!_ "

He bit down into a forceful grit, discharging the plume of energy into a massive beam that cut across the city to meet up with his offender.

Entire precincts parted like the Red Sea as it tore through with blinding speed and deafening noise, closing on Tatsumaki well within the first second.

A magnificent explosion erupted where the girl was floating. The force of the impact must have shattered every window the city had left.

No longer sensing any trace of the tiny and obstinate creature, the divine giant proclaimed, "YOU ARE CLEANSED AND MADE CLEAN... WITCH." before turning to proceed onward with his bloody campaign.

As he rotated completely around, he was met with the startling view of the woman he was thought to have just vanquished, crossing her arms indignantly just a few meters away from his face.

In spite of the overwhelming size difference, the goliath sensed enough danger to instinctively launch himself back several squares away from where Tatsumaki had reappeared.

"Cleansed?" She scoffed unpleasantly. "Not quite the word _I'd_ use. After being spat at by such an ugly attack, I've never felt filthier in my life!" Her glow intensified as she picked up more pieces of rubble without even acknowledging what she was doing. "You called yourself a 'god,' right? So it's not so silly to assume that you're a God-level Disaster Threat, right?"

"WHAT ARE YOU BABBLING ABOUT." The giant retorted. "I AM DOMINUS. I AM NO SINGULAR THREAT. I AM THE SUN, THE SWORD, THE TORCH, THE STORM. I AM _**ALL THREATS!**_ "

"Hm." The slightest of smirks made its way across Tatsumaki's lips. To think that not only would Shibabawa's prophecy be taking place so soon, but it seems she was the one appointed by fate to stop it. At least that poor hag won't have died for nothing. "Maybe I actually rolled out of bed for a good reason today." The multitude of objects compiled around her was poised and ready to launch. "Then don't disappoint me… Big man."

With the simple flick of her hand, mountains of debris came speeding after him. Dominus opened his maw into a gape again, and the orifices of his face glowed red in unison. "PROFANE CUR!" The red sky immediately deepened its hue as the area darkened.

The sun began to turn black.

* * *

"Hey, Genos, which of these do you think that little squirt will like more?" Saitama held two t-shirts out for his roommate to inspect. One shirt had what appeared to be a crudely drawn image of a stubbly man wearing a mouse suit, puckering his lips out while standing on all fours. The other had the caption ' **MOBU PSYCHO 1000000'** resting above the silhouetted head of some kid with bowl cut hair.

Genos's eyes went dark. If cyborgs could sweat, that's the first thing this one would be doing. "I..." His shoulders sank in hopeless defeat. "...I do not have an answer for this question, Master."

Saitama gave him a discouraged look as he lowered both articles. "Huh? Oh come on man, these are the two coolest shirts I have left. You're telling me you don't prefer one over the other even a _little_ bit?"

"Well, in my opinion—"

"Whoa. Hey, does it seem like it suddenly got darker to you or something?"

As the room noticeably drew more shade, the blond half-droid looked out through the unfixed wall ruinously marring their apartment. Considering how ordinary the sky above them looked save for indeed being rather dim, one would not think to suspect there was an evil hell bath going on many cities off. "It is still early in the morning. The sun is not due to rise for another eighteen and a half minutes," he informed, "and the meteorologists predicted more heavy showers later on. Perhaps an overcast."

"Oh." Saitama muttered vaguely. "Anyways," he shrugged, "I guess it's time to have our last breakfast together."

Genos grimaced. There went that blasted word again.

Last.

Last breakfast.

Last rent payment.

Last tooth-brushing.

Last toilet flush.

Last. Freaking. _Everything._

At this point, the cyborg didn't know if Saitama was excited for their parting, dreading it, or simply milking it out. The bald hero's tendency to flippantly brush off every situation made him a very hard read, even with all the practice their time together afforded.

As Genos further pondered on it, Saitama went over to the fridge and opened it to browse their selection. "Hope the milk's okay. Don't know how long the power was out. Ah…!"

"Hm?" His disciple snapped back into reality to look over. "Is something the matter, Sensei?"

"I always suspected...but now..." Saitama slumped dismally, pulling out a plastic container containing a dubiously discolored liquid of...something. He turned to look at his companion with a glassy-eyed stare, as if announcing the death of a family pet. "I think...we lost the Szechuan. We should probably toss it..." He opened the package to smell it, after which he abruptly jerked his nose back to look at him again and add, "You know what? No. Not toss. We should bury it in a deep hole. And then bury the hole."

Genos tried to sound as sympathetic as he could. "I am deeply sorry for your loss, Master."

"Bahhh..." Saitama waved it off. "It's not the end of the world."

* * *

"I WILL _**END**_ THIS WORLD!" Dominus snarled bitterly. "I AM THE SUN!"

Blotches of darkness fell from the spherical void hanging in the sky, colliding with Tatsumaki's projectiles and burning them out of existence.

"I AM THE SWORD!"

From out of nowhere, a wreath of elegant shining blades appeared from behind the titan, each the length of a school bus, swirling around him in a uniform, dance-like motion. All at once they pointed at the esper, and flying off to meet her they went, cutting through the air on the way with the bittersweet sound of swinging metal. As the collection of spinning steel came for her, Tatsumaki casually flew clear of each throw, grunting in annoyance when she saw that each sword seemed to boomerang right back at her – powered by an almost living eagerness to make good on their master's intent to do her harm. She threw out her hand, and before the weapons could strike, they were suspended by the green of her psychokinesis and subsequently broken into spectral sand.

"I AM THE TORCH!"

Colorless wisps of light – each the size of a golf ball – appeared around the god's head, accompanied by sharp buzzing sounds as they spawned. As Tatsumaki coolly watched on, the lights proceeded to devour their other siblings for kindling, growing fewer in number, but hotter and more massive.

When only three were left – now the size of houses – they all flared up into a bright cerulean blue and hurdled towards her with wild abandon. At such speed they were going, it was difficult for her to outmaneuver all of them at once while they were approaching her from such widely different angles. To save herself the trouble, she conjured an energy shield around her with the mystic wave of her hands just as the three great balls of fire converged on top of her, coating her spherical defense in azure light.

Not allowing her a moment's time for recovery, Dominus thrust his weapon skyward.

"I AM THE STORM!"

High in the sky, a hurricane-like cloud began swirling with the eye of the cyclone forming at the head of his scepter, and when it had spread far enough to encompass the city, a red surge of lightning shot down upon the great statue god, coating him in electrical charge. With a zealous roar, he swung his staff in Tatsumaki's direction, where nothing of her could be seen but the engulfing blue star that still held her captive.

A bolt of crimson fury leaped forth from his weapon like a lightning rod, crackling with unchecked power before colliding with the esper's fiery prison. As red rushed to meet blue, the burning celestial cage holding Tatsumaki shattered on contact like a sapphire gem, and the entire space around it ignited into a monstrous yet dazzling explosion of purple.

The entire district that she floated over was blanketed in a dense fog – fallout from the discharge of angry magic. Sounds of choking and gagging gradually filled the tarnished air as the people unfortunate enough to be hiding in that area began struggling for breath. To the cruelty of an enraged god like Dominus, however, the feeble rasps and brays of an undeserving race were sweeter than ambrosial wine.

Forgetting all about the esper he had practically disintegrated like an ant beneath a magnifying glass, Dominus turned to revel in the tune of human atrophy and slow death. His elation was short-lived however, as the malignant fog he had just created off of his last attack began to rise away from the civilians, being sucked upwards by means of some hidden vacuum.

"Unbelievable..." High in the air, the nightmarish smoke began to shrink back smaller and smaller as the indignant voice within it continued. "I should have suspected this from the start, but I guess I was too afraid to acknowledge the simple truth..." The fog, now condensed into the size of a penny, was swirling harmlessly on the tip of the esper's finger. "Your power..." Tatsumaki threw him a condemning look. "...is a pittance. An irritant at best." The disappointment in her voice was so pervasive that every survivor below the two titans felt the chill.

"WHAT?!" The mysterious being barked in outrage, partly for her jab, and partly to see that she yet again eluded her gruesome fate.

"This is the fucking worst." She held her hand high and opened it above her head. The onyx disk containing the fog from his previous attack began to dilate and expand. "God-Level? Get real. You'd have to bribe the assessment board just for them to consider you a Dragon Threat..." She paused for a moment, putting a finger from her other hand to her lip in thought as she continued to effortlessly hold up the rapid-growing death cloud. "I'll bet if _he_ were here..." she concluded bitterly, the image of an annoying face in her mind, "...he could probably beat you with just one punch."

The regal giant scoffed incredulously. "WHO COULD BE SO POWERFUL..."

"Does it even matter at this point?" She replied dismissively. "You know, I actually feel kinda bad for you. If _he_ were here, you would've lucked out. At least it would've been quick. ...Your death, I mean. But instead, you got me. And as a reward for terrifically wasting my time with your pointless buildup..." Suddenly, she haphazardly flicked the stormy disk at him. Despite the lazy manner in which she threw it, it closed on him with astonishing speed. It was all the stony creature could do to fly over it before it hacked him in two. However, as it passed from below, he no sooner heard Tatsumaki say "...Here. Have your lightning back." before the same bolt he attempted to strike her with leaped out through the cloudy projectile and lashed him from behind.

A thunderous noise rang out, and the next thing he knew, Dominus was missing his arm – the staff included. He grunted in surprise that his Perfect Defense had been so perfectly compromised, throwing his only remaining hand over in a frantic effort to staunch the crimson waterfall of blood that was now pouring out from the other side.

"Oh dear. Looks like I just made a god bleed."

He snapped his head over to where Tatsumaki stayed floating nonchalantly. "MISERABLE WRETCH..." His mighty voice had a slightly strained pitch to it. It was apparent that he felt more than a little pain. "YOU DARE TO STRIKE DOMINUS?!"

"Dare?" She blinked as if she were half-asleep. "Dare. Yes, I dare – twice in fact."

On cue, the bolt raced back to him from the other direction, taking out his eye, and virtually half his face. Surprisingly, the mangling of his stone exterior revealed a full set of teeth underneath, now partially exposed with the soft, bloody tissue of normal human anatomy beneath the cracks.

"FOR THIS TRANSGRESSION, YOUR SENTENCE SHALL BE—"

"Blah,"

She interrupted. The bolt of lightning zigged through him again, zagging out the other side and blasting a huge chunk out of his chest.

"Blah,"

Suddenly switched to a reclined floating position, she ushered the projectile in the other direction with her finger. The string of electricity changed its course again and passed Dominus, taking his other arm with it.

"Blaaah." She finished with a yawn.

By the time she turned the lightning streak loose for good, her opponent was a literally crumbling mess. Now covered more in viscera than stone, the self-proclaimed god looked like a battered egg that had just been shown a bad time by the beater.

"UGH… I NEVER IMAGINED..." The stone creature's unmoving mouth had blood rolling out, "THAT A MERE MORTAL...COULD BE SO STRONG..."

She gave him a weary look. "Do you go around crediting all your opponents for your own weakness?" She got into a threatening posture, holding her glowing hand out to him. "Or perhaps you think that you can win your life over with flattery?"

Forced to land and utterly...disarmed...Dominus was more apt to retreat than exchange words any further. Sensing him prepare to back away, she casually hovered closer to him with a half-hearted drift.

"You really think I'll tolerate pissants like you calling yourselves 'gods' so carefree?" She chided him. "What gives you license to come down here acting like you're hot shit? Because I've got some pretty overdue news for you..." She leaned in forward and spoke slowly, as if talking down to a child. "You're not a god. And you're not the Storm." Without turning away from him, she raised her hand up like she was grasping at something. From miles away, a familiar shape came flying its way over to her side. It was the Golden Turd from Zeniru's skyscraper. "You're just a sad weatherman who's grossly misread today's forecast. The _real_ storm..." The large floating effigy next to her erupted into golden flame. "...she's right in front of you."

The fallen deity barely had enough time to look up in time to see the portending shadow move its way over his head.

"And now..."

"HOW DARE YOU THREATEN THE MIGHTY—!"

 **=CRUNCH=**

A gruesome sound rang out; the voluminous crack of eggshell and splatter of the yoke within.

Tatsumaki backed up a bit and put a finger to her chin to get a better look at her handiwork. The crap-shaped headpiece of the city landmark, still melting and smoldering with golden flame, sat in place of the colossus's head, which had since disappeared under not-so mysterious circumstances. It was almost comical how perfectly the relic seemed to fit atop his shoulders – as if that was its true destination all along.

"Now you're nothing but a piece of modern art." She told him, even though she knew she was only talking to a newly transformed husk at this point. "Enjoy posing at the national museum… Shithead."

Shithead. She was proud of that one.

Said shithead's broken body had been reduced to a sitting position, and with his shoulders slumped forward and his arms missing, he indeed looked quite sad. Art imitates life? Not this time.

"Kkh..." She sneered through her teeth with irritation as she turned to fly out of the city still burning and painted red. Whatever. That's what the clean-up crews were for. "How am I supposed to show that bastard how much better I am if I can't even find a decent challenger?"

As she ascended upwards towards a sun and sky now freed from divine tyranny, a rhythmic serious of beeps rang out.

Scoffing at the trouble, she reached back and pulled out a flip phone from God-knows-where, opening it and holding it up to her ear.

"Yeah? What?" She asked curtly. A series of long-winded chatter came out from the other end, indiscernible to all but her. "An evil statue god? Sighted in City F? Undetermined Disaster Threat Level, you say?" She pretended to act surprised before dropping the game and adding "Uh, yeah, I just killed it, genius. Why don't you turn on the local broadcast and learn something. Oh. And I better not receive flack about the damages. It was like this when I got here."

Another long streak of chatter answered her. Tatsumaki pinched the bridge of her nose in deep exasperation at what she was hearing.

" _No,_ I'll have you know he _wasn't_ with me to fight it. What, you think I needed his help or something? I'm about to—"

She was cut off by another response. As the prattling went on, she growled in annoyance.

"God, enough already! I was just headed in that direction to go get him… ...Seriously?! You called to ask me _that?!_ Obviously I've decided to work with him, why else would I have even bothered to answer your call? ...Yeah, well...stuff happened. So now you can report some good news to your boss. Maybe he'll even put your name up on the fridge. Good for you." Some more inaudible words dropped in from the phone. She evidently didn't like what she was hearing, because her face straightened into a deadpan and she replied "I'm hanging up now. Thanks for eating up my minutes."

With the push of a button, her phone beeped before she tucked it back away and sighed gruffly. If there was one thing she wouldn't have missed about the Hero Association had she quit, it would've been the endless loop of the same three stupid conversations she had on the phone with the same three idiotic supervisors handling her. Was her time a joke to them?

"A boring fight with some self-absorbed statue, and now all this fuss over that weird-ass baldy..." She grumbled to herself as she continued her crow's flight towards Z-City. "Just who put me here to suffer like this...?"

Oh, right… _She_ did.

And yet there was this feeling she couldn't shake… As if despite every ill turn she sustained over the past 48 hours, the real suffering was merely shuffling its way to her door.

The image of a certain bald face flashed through her mind with much unwelcome. Ironically, for all the things her brain allowed her to control, her brain itself was not always one of them.

She rolled her eyes, picking up speed though tempting was the thought to slow down and draw out the length of her flight. She doubted there would be many peaceful moments after this one.

Time to get this chapter of her life over with.

* * *

"Genos..." Saitama began to his roommate, taking a moment to look up at the re-lit morning sky in a seemingly contemplative trance. Next to him sat a packed rolling suitcase that looked arguably just as plain as its owner did. Out of his hero outfit and into his more casual hoodie and shorts combination, the cool wetness of the outdoors felt even more apparent. "...How long has it been since we met?"

The cyborg standing with him outside of their battle-torn apartment put a finger to his chin in careful thought. "From the very moment I first knocked on your door...it will have been ten weeks..."

Saitama whistled at the number. "Ten weeks already."

"Four days..." Genos went on.

"Huh?"

"Seven hours..."

"Ah...you don't say."

"Forty-three minutes."

"Yeah, I get it..."

"Sixteen seconds...four deciseconds..."

"Haha...okay that's getting creepy, please stop."

His mechanical neighbor gave him a look, but obeyed the request. "It seems a peculiar thing to ask..." Genos replied sullenly after a few beats. "Considering that we are about to part ways."

"Yeah..." Saitama answered. "I suppose it is."

The two took another lengthy moment to stare out at nothing in particular. There weren't necessarily a lot of noises in their neighborhood this early. In fact, it would be justice to say that there weren't a lot of noises around there _period._

Z-City had seen its fair share of excitement. Yet in the wake of dream-ushered mole men, biting swarms of insects, and plummeting rocks from space, humans continue to stake their claim. As things were, it was a bleeding _miracle_ how the business and residential districts still managed to hold on to people, but as for the particularly trashed area that the two heroes now inhabited...not so lucky. The ongoing rumors of monster hordes nesting beneath the settlement were to thank for that. The oh-so spooky "Ghost Town" they were calling it now. Saitama, of course, was there to enjoy his marginally cheap discount on rent, but the unmerry few that also lingered did so because they didn't really have any other choice. They were transients...vagabonds...or criminals.

"Look, man..." The cyborg's unwitting preceptor turned to look him in the eye. "I know I'm not exactly...the most expressive person you'll ever meet. I don't do long-winded speeches, and that kinda extends to goodbyes too..." He paused for a moment to fish for something in his pocket. "Still...I have a request for you. It's not something just anyone can do. I've chosen you. So I really hope it's not too much to ask."

"Sensei." Genos regarded him with a grave seriousness; his eyes deadly, but full of reverence. "Coming from you, no request becomes too much. Whatever it is, I swear I will do."

Saitama stopped searching his pocket for a moment to smile softly. "That's great to hear. So here it goes. Would you do me the honor of—" Something came rattling out and fell to the ground. "—oops, I dropped it… Hang on a sec..."

As he got down to retrieve the object, the otherwise overawing hero known as the Demon Cyborg completely escaped his stoic character by cuffing both hands over his mouth in shock when he saw what it was that his master was preparing to give him.

Saitama, too lazy to completely stand back up, elected to rise on one knee as he held the item up to Genos. "Would you please do me the honor..." still kneeling, he held up a ring of keys, the sacredness of which sparkled in the rising sun, "...of looking after my super-conveniently-cheap pad while I'm gone?"

The not-currently caped baldy had never seen the pseudo-machine look so overcome with emotion. Genos actually looked like he might start crying as he uttered from beneath his clasped bionic hands,

"Y-Yes…"

Saitama's vague expression was steadily growing with concern. "Uhh...dude? You okay up there?"

"I...I am just so...so surprised..."

"Huh? Surprised? For what?"

"Just that..." The cyborg paused to look away, still holding a hand over his mouth in almost maidenly tenderness. "It is such a sudden proposal… I was nearly thinking that it would never come to this. I shall do my best to be worthy..."

"Proposal…?" Just sliding the word in his mouth made Saitama feel nauseous. "Look, could you please just take the keys? You're starting to freak me out..."

Just as Genos reached down to comply, a breeze of wind rushed against them with a ghostly howl, leaving as quickly as it came. The two of them turned to look the direction it blew in from.

"Seems I interrupted a tender moment..." The newcomer cocked a short yet expressive eyebrow; the gesture barely even visible from under the curling bangs of her prominently green hair. As she descended with her hands to her hips in a posture that embodied all sass, she added with cruel amusement, "So when's the wedding, faggots?"

"Eh?"

Saitama, previously unaware of the outside context of his kneeling position, rose to his feet. Without looking, he casually tossed the key ring to his right, which was then promptly caught by the two careful hands of a certain cyborg whose fluster had redoubled.

"Wh- _wedding?_ " Genos practically spat the word, finding an unusually hard time articulating his speech. "I-I do not know what you are insinuating, b-but I assure you that Sensei and I do not partake in that form of human company!" He stopped speaking for a moment to sneak a look at Saitama, as if looking for assurance that they were not in fact pursuing courtship. His mentor gave him a clueless shrug, which somehow satisfied his unspoken question. "Our relationship is strictly of master and student, nothing more!"

Next to him, a mildly-disturbed sensei stared in vacant wonder at how the cyborg awkwardly continued digging them a deeper hole just out of how hard he was trying to deny her simple jab. "Way to take a stand, Genos..."

Tatsumaki rolled her eyes – a habit she was oft to do while engaging the company of fools.

Wanting to waste no more time with the metallic one than she absolutely needed to, the esper directed her eyes to the shiny-headed fool instead. "Well?" She curtly beckoned. "You coming or what, Tic Tac."

Saitama returned her passive insult with one of his airy stares. "You sure you wanna take the party to your place? I know how much you like privacy. It's not too late to bunk up here instead..."

The esper followed his finger to where it pointed – up to the quaint hovel that still had a gaping hole blown into its side from where they tangoed a few nights back.

"Whoa goodness gracious me…" She chirped. "That's such a _generous_ offer." Batting her long eyelashes cutely at him, she went ahead and added, "Do you really mean it? Like _really_ really?"

None the wiser, the baldy nodded his head. "Yeah, I mean of course. We even had a chance to wash the futon you slept in last time, so now it doesn't even smell like death wrapped up in fifteen flavors of cheese anymore." He concluded somewhat proudly.

"Wow..." She put both hands to her cheeks, pretending to be humbled by the improvement. "That sounds just lovely… Lovely." She closed her eyes and smiled wide. And if her sister were here to see it, that smile would have already sent her packing half-way across the city by now. "Oh..." She acted like she was only just now realizing it, putting a worried finger to her chin. "How I wish I could stay… The only _teensy-weensy_ problem is..." A vein popped up right over the faux grin she did such a good job holding. "How in the fuck can you call it 'privacy'..." She threw both of her arms out in a grand gesture at the problem that would have been obvious to any other homo sapien on the planet, _"...WITH A HUGE_ _FUCKING CRATER_ _STICKING OUT ITS ASS?!"_

"I recall that it was you who put the crater _in_ the ass to begin with." Genos clarified, seeing fit to adopt her wording.

" _No,"_ she spun around at him and protested fiercely, "Get your memory repaired. The _monster_ was the one that did that."

"Of course." Genos corrected, before narrowing his disdainful eyes at the green devil who wrecked his teacher's home, "You merely made the hole twice as large."

"Ughh, what- _ever._ " Tatsumaki heaved a sigh of disbelief. "Have you even done anything to fix it since then?"

"Do I really look like someone who can afford it?" Saitama asked, rolling his pockets inside-out to emphasize. "Besides...it's not that bad. Kinda like a really big panoramic window. Set a few mosquito traps around it, and it's actually kinda pretty this time of year."

"You _must_ be joking." She returned with cloy.

"Meh." He shrugged. "Worth it if it's funny. Anyways, I think I'm all set to..." Saitama stopped himself to look around, and apparently not finding what he was looking for, he reassessed, "Oh! Crap. I missed something..." Without waiting for a response from Tatsumaki or Genos, the hairless hobbyist turned to disappear back into the building.

Left to their own devices, the two other heroes turned to glare holes into each other's ocular cavities, and the background seemed to melt away as it became consumed with rising hellfire. Fortunately, the cyborg and the esper would not be alone long enough to kick-start World War III, because a short moment later, Saitama reemerged carrying an object in his arm that Tatsumaki could best deem as...questionable.

"What...is that?" In her cartoonishly underwhelmed portrayal, she pointed at what she saw him holding.

"This?" Saitama did a double-take at what was with him, as if to make sure it was indeed what he thought it was before informing her. "It's a cactus."

"I know what a cactus is, jackass." She spoke up impatiently. "I'm asking what the hell you're _doing_ with it."

He turned down again to give the potted plant another long stare, as if to compartmentalize, calculate, and compute every logical excuse that a logical person could follow.

Needless to say, he failed miserably at that, so instead he settled for the directest approach. "It needs me."

She blinked at that. "...This prickly desert vegetable needs you?"

"Hey hey!" Saitama hugged the plant pot it stood on, getting unexpectedly worked up. "Don't talk bad about my kid. I have to take it with me, otherwise Genos will either over-water it or just forget it's there and neglect it altogether."

"Master! I would never!"

Tatsumaki looked at him as if he just grew an extra head before letting out another sigh – an action she might as well be fated to repeat with every second breath she drew today. When it came to this weirdo, a brand new mystery always seemed to come with him. At least in spite of how dull he looked, there might never be a dull moment associated.

Not seeing any real reason to refuse him his ridiculous request, she gave a dismissive wave of her hand. "...If you _must._ "

Saitama's plain face seemed to light up at that, and for a brief moment, the definition of his features enhanced again. The way they had the night before when he and Tatsumaki were alone. However, lacking the fierceness they had before, they instead appeared warm and grateful. His smile revealed the teeth he somehow always managed to hide behind a simple mouth – perfectly straight and white as can be.

"Awesome. Thanks."

Despite the bland tone of his voice, the sudden reemergence of this more sophisticated look of his made her heart do a small, involuntary jump. She felt the quick tang of heat shoot up her body and hit her face, producing a small blush that she quickly turned away to hide.

Struck off-guard by the baldy's facial phenomenon, the tiny esper had to wonder what the fuck made that spiky plant so special.

"Y-Yeah yeah. I _am_ awesome, and you owe me for it." With her back to him and her arms crossed, she retorted snappishly while waiting for her body temperature to sink back into regularity. "But you're keeping that thing outside, you hear? If I find a single needle on my carpet, I'm turning it into compost, no fucks given!"

She faced back around to see that not only had her warning been totally ignored, but Saitama's face had already reverted back to its quirky, plain state as he set his attention elsewhere. If she was being totally honest with herself, she wasn't sure which irritated her more.

"Well, Genos..." He set the cactus down next to him before turning back to acknowledge the man-machine hybrid that was soon to leave his company. "Guess this is it."

Genos furrowed his eyebrows in a mournful display of concern. "Yes..." He replied somewhat distantly. "That it appears to be." The cyborg stepped in closer to him, making sure that the esper was out of earshot for what he would say next. "But please take heed, Master..." Genos cuffed a hand next to his face to muffle his voice. "You must be careful. The Tornado of Terror...I have gone to extensive lengths to research her."

The ear that he was whispering into perked up. This ought to be good. "Oh?"

"Prior to her registration, hardly anything is known about her." They broke off for a moment to sneak a look at the topic of discussion, whose scowl had deepened at the notion that she was being excluded. Turning back to his sensei, Genos continued, "Something is amiss. No being with her level of power comes without leaving some sort of past impression. That either means that someone has taken great strides to cover up her background...or she has done so herself." His synthetic face deepened into a dark grimace. "A person cannot completely erase their history. And attempting to do so merely suggests a deeply troubling affair. I can conclude with 100% accuracy...the esper is dangerous."

"The person who can move things with her mind is dangerous?" Saitama gave him a coltish look coupled with a sarcastic shrug. "Thanks – I had no idea."

"I am being serious!" Genos hissed, pulling him in a little closer by the hoodie. "You are strong. So strong in fact that I have yet to assess your limits for myself. Even so, I must express my wish that you proceed with great caution. We have no way of knowing what _her_ limits may be either."

"Appreciate the heads up dude, but you might wanna spend a bit more time wondering about your _own_ partner. They say it's all about the devil you know, and if that's true, then at least _my_ devil's already bothered to show up."

Genos' response fell back into his throat. That was a good point.

Today marked the end of the grace period given by the Association for heroes to rendezvous with partners and settle. It would have been one thing for them to be stuck deciding where to set up shop, but Genos didn't even know what his would-be collaborator _looked_ like yet.

Fortunately, Genos was the overly dedicated sort, and if it wasn't readily apparent, he had a strong willingness to investigate. After he consulted with a few officers from headquarters, they seemed all too happy to produce the information he missed at the orientation meeting about his partners.

Yes. _Partners._ As in more than one.

Since Genos was fairly new to the game, it wasn't like they were ready to dump half of Class B on his back. Still, he _was_ in S-Class, and without the uncommon reservations that the Tornado of Terror had, they were of course inclined to give him a bit more to work with.

The authorities assured him that his new companions would be in contact with him soon. Yet that was days ago, and it was becoming readily apparent that "soon" couldn't wait much longer. Despite getting a few names and some basic information, hardly any of the heroes he reached out to responded to his calls or emails. Frustrating, to say the least. He could hardly believe he was involved in an organization where 'organization' seemed to mean so little to its affiliates.

There was, however, one particular hero that seemed almost too eager to touch base with him. An upstart that went by a peculiar name…

Spring Sapling.

Like Tatsumaki, very little was actually known about this girl, and since she just seemed to magically pop up on the hero roster a few weeks before the Rule of Two came through, Genos had his research well cut out for him. Though unlike the temperamental esper, this new girl was apparently more than thrilled to answer any and all questions Genos had for her through an active email exchange, although even the cyborg himself had to admit that he felt more like an interviewer coldly drilling her for information than someone genuinely trying to get to know his colleague. But if this bothered her in any way, she really didn't seem to show it through their correspondence.

During their brief but numerous exchanges throughout the past few days, Genos had very limited success constructing a clear picture of this girl in his head. Her personality seemed motley and diversified. At one instance, he thought he was talking to a scientific genius like his Dr. Kuseno. At the next instance, she came off like a giddy elementary school student who was sneaking texts with him while trying not to get caught by her teacher.

Her abilities were just as hard to make sense out of. From what there was to gather from her vague explanation, she drew all her talents from direct sunlight – absorbing it through a special pigment in her skin and converting it into energy identical to photosynthesis. From rapid cellular regeneration and growth to an uncanny communion with plant life, she seemed to run a wide gambit of potential uses.

But none of this would mean a thing if she never made an appearance. The same went for every other junior assigned under his wing.

Accepting that nothing could really be done about it at this point, Genos gave his sensei the slightest of nods and extended his hand to him. "I want you to know, Master..." Saitama blinked down at the mechanized digits of the offered palm. "I cherished every moment I spent under your guidance." The cyborg looked him square in the eye before his concerned frown inverted into an encouraging smile. "No matter what anyone may say to disparage you, you will always have my respect. Do not ever forget that."

Saitama turned his attention from the hand back to his self-made disciple. "What're you doing?" He asked.

"Uh?" Genos looked confused by his reaction. "I...only meant to shake your hand, Master."

Saitama looked almost offended at the gesture. "Forget it." He declined tersely. "We're not at that level."

Genos lowered his offered hand, clenching it tightly to keep it from shaking. "O-oh..." He replied, trying to hide the defeat in his voice. "Well I suppose...it is good to know where I stand."

Before he could react further, Saitama balled his hand into a fist and threw it out in front of him. Upon reflex, Genos damn near skyrocketed away, remembering the traumatic event where the exact same fist went flying at him – the kanji for 'Death' emblazoned on a red glove.

The cyborg began to steady himself as his master's fist halted with a fully extended arm. " _This_ is what level we're at." Saitama finished off with a confident smile.

Genos kept trading attention between the fist that he had seen far too often used as a weapon of certain doom up to the man who owns it. Many seconds passed with him wondering what to do.

His bald mentor frowned slightly at the cyborg's unnecessary anxiety. "Here, just ball your hand into a fist like this."

Genos obeyed, his robotic hand letting out the slightest whir of gears working in tandem as he complied.

"Now pound it, bro." A quick look at how baffled Genos appeared by that statement told Saitama how badly he needed to elaborate. "Just...push your fist into mine."

With more than a little reluctance, his former roommate followed command, slowly inching his way towards the other set of knuckles as if he was about to touch a live frag mine.

As they connected firmly, Saitama called out in a half-lazy tune, "Fist buuuump." He seemed to draw contentment from the small action as he continued to explain, "Handshakes are too stiff for me. This is how real men say…'see ya around.'" His grin deepened a bit, causing the cyborg to blink rigidly.

Faster than the moment started, Saitama ended it by breaking away and walking towards the esper with his cactus and suitcase in tow. "Okay, we're off now, man. If you throw any wild parties, I'm billing you for what gets broken, 'kay?"

Genos watched Saitama's back as he continued to shrink into the distance along with the girl floating next to him at even pace.

Raising his hand in a steady wave, Genos stared on with the equal longing effect of a dog watching his master leave to go on vacation.

"See you around…" He repeated after him. "...Sensei."

As the legendary Tornado of Terror and Baldy of Capes proceeded together down the street where the sun was rising, Tatsumaki gave her new partner a queer side glance. "Pound it? _Bro?_ " Her tone was over-saturated with disgust. "Woooow. Does your appeal to the male fantasy feel complete yet? Or should we go catch a football game later while drinking booze out of some of those idiotic beer hats?"

"Naw, I'm good." Saitama insisted casually. "If you're thirsty though, we could always swing by the store and get you a juice box."

"Tch..." The esper bitterly gritted her fangs, feeling more deflected by the moron's density than the moron himself. "Forget it."

"Already did. More importantly," he addressed, "you didn't have to go through all this trouble to escort me to your place. I already know where you live, you know."

"Actually shit-brain, I do." She corrected him as though the reason should have been impossible to miss. "You really think I'd trust you to come to my dwelling without inviting more of your lame-ass friends along? It stands to reason that if Robocrap and Grandmaster Mustache already stick to you like shit to a blanket, you'd probably end up dragging that stick-waving pompadour poof to my door next."

"Huh. I never thought about it before you said that, but I guess I _am_ getting kinda popular..." After a moment's pause, his face turned dreamy. "Maybe that means I'm not far off from getting my own fan club of cute girls too. Whaddaya think, huh?"

Tatsumaki's face sprang alive with irritated veins coursing throughout. He let out an exaggerated, dorky laugh that just about drowned out her reaction. "Has anyone ever told you that you focus on the _wrong part of the story?!_ " Not knowing any other way to shut him the fuck up, she begrudgingly waited for him to stop that insipid laughter on his own accord before continuing. "Besides..." her annoyance suddenly became eclipsed by a long, foreboding smirk. "When else am I going to get such an opportunity to go over my house rules with you?"

All traces of amusement immediately abandoned Saitama's face. "Rules?"

Her twisted visage not faltering in the slightest, she leered at him with wide, unblinking eyes; a cat that had backed a mouse into a corner. Without taking her dooming gaze off of him, she pulled out a rolled up piece of parchment and let it unravel. By the time the list was completely open, it had sprawled from where she was floating clear down to the unwitting baldy's feet. The damned thing had to have been at least six meters in length.

Tatsumaki tapped where she held the list up with a keen pointer finger. Perfectly lining his hairless head up in a fine crosshair, her green eyes glowed with malachite malice as she echoed his concern with verbal venom potent enough to kill.

"Rules."

* * *

After his teacher had departed onward towards the next chapter of his career as a hero, Genos vowed to do his best too.

In the beginning, his goal had been singular. Almost selfish, really.

The rampaging cyborg of four years ago had changed everything for him. And even up to this very day, he wondered what kind of person he would have grown up to be if he still had a mother...a father...a brother. If he could have stayed in his town – in a small world of constant harmony; a world where meeting people like Dr. Kuseno would never have become necessary.

...It must have been quite something.

But Genos had a mission. He had a family to avenge, and while he thought of nothing else, vengeance hadn't made him completely blind. Dr. Kuseno warned him about the risks of becoming a cyborg, and he acknowledged them. He knew that he could never truly go home, and he acknowledged it. So with every small implant, every minor modification, every natural sinew of his body being replaced with something better, he thought less and less of that home.

Whether by fate or by chance, Kuseno came to him with an opportunity. Opportunities come with costs. And Genos would pay his again a thousand times over if it meant finally putting the memory of his loved ones to rest.

To that end, he needed power. Plenty of it.

So when someone like Saitama – who as far as he could tell was the embodiment of the very word – happened upon his path, Genos saw yet another opportunity; one too good to pass up.

And now here he was – tending to an empty apartment building in an abandoned area several cities far from home, while his objective to acquire said power necessary to destroy his life-long rival was slipping away with a brat of unspoken magnitude. Truly, the hand of fate gave him a hard slap with that one.

Still, long before he met Saitama, he had Dr. Kuseno. And even before Kuseno, Genos managed to survive in the terrible conditions of his ruined hometown for almost a week before he was even found. He looked up to both of his mentors with great approbation, but he was nothing if not independent on their very presence.

After he watched the unlikely new pair vanish from view, the cyborg turned to make his way back into the building. The first rule of business would be to patch up that onerous hole gaping from their abode. Saitama acted like he didn't care, but with Genos still having to stay, the forecast of spring showers would be rather unkind to his many metal parts.

Just as he reached out to open the door…

"Heeeeeey!"

Grunting in surprise, he turned his head to spot a peculiar figure rushing over from the opposite side of the road. Based on the way it moved and how slender it was, he presumed that it was a female.

And sure enough, as the distance to him closed, he was brought face-to-face with the labored, panting visage of a girl who looked to be around his age.

"Hah...whew..." As soon as the young creature recaptured her breath, she gave an exaggerated wipe of her brow and straightened herself up to give him a proper look. "Haha, sorry you had to see that hokey run. You're Genos-sama! Right?"

As if against his will, he was immediately drawn to her hopeful brown eyes. Vibrant and bright, they shimmered with a vivacious vitality all their own. Her youthful face was gifted with flawless skin and a smile warm enough to melt a hole in winter. Even going by just proportions alone, there was certainly no question to her beauty for the average beholder. But somehow, the thing he first failed to notice was her hair; the wild, wavy bangs that framed her head practically flared with a vibrant red – far too much to be anything natural. The very sheen of each strain seemed to shine electrically against the light of the waking day, all the way up to the base that was occupied by a headband composed of what appeared to be white flower petals.

He narrowed his eyes in perplexity. "Genos... _sama?_ "

"Oh goody! I finally tracked you down!" She peeped eagerly.

' _Who is this?'_ His eyes darkly sank as he mentally voiced his purported hunch. _'Another crazed fan…?'_

"You're a pretty hard guy to find, you know that?" She beamed brighter all the same.

' _It would seem that my theory is correct.'_ He concluded with the evidence he drew from her words. _'I do not have time to deal with this. I must attend to Sensei's apartment before the storms come.'_ Just as he was preparing to dismiss her, he was halted by what she said next.

"When you sent me your address, I didn't figure you'd be staying in a place like..." she gave the excessively damaged area a good look around as she struggled to find the words for it. "Well...I just thought...it'd be more crowded here!" She quickly regained her smile. "I'm relieved, honestly! People can be noisy, can't they? Anyway, your body looks immaculate! Like _waaaaaaay_ shinier than I pictured in my head! Thought you were the Silver Skater from a distance! What kinda tarnish remover do you use to get so shiny? Any liquid polish? Anti-corrosives? I assume you use WD-40 or something to soak it with, 'cuz I hear that the non-WD stuff makes metal kinda squeaky!"

Genos lowered his defenses a bit, but continued studying her. How this girl appeared to know so much about his routine maintenance specs, he could hardly guess. It wasn't exactly the trade of a traditional mechanic. Before he even thought to ask her, he found himself bombarded with loads more questions and comments.

"Whoa, your eyes look really evil, Genos-sama!" Her carefree close-eyed grin completely contradicted what she just said. "No wonder they call you the Demon Cyborg! Is there a reason your eyes have those colors, or is it just to look scary? And your hair looks so real! Were you a blonde before you became a cyborg too? Is your body completely efficient, or do you still have to poop like everyone else? Is rust considered a hygiene issue? Can cyborgs still—mmph~!" She was cut off by a set of cold, metal fingers wrapping around her mouth in a vise grip.

"Stop. Talking." He commanded her stoically, feeling pushed back by her incessant prodding.

She looked up at him from her restricted position with a few confused blinks, but seemed to have no trouble complying with his order.

To Genos, the questions themselves weren't stupid, but the rate at which they were fired gave him the impression that she didn't revere tact for subject matter. He wondered why this childish line of questioning seemed so familiar to him. He certainly never met anyone who acted like this…

Releasing her tightly puckered lips from his grasp, he thought about chasing her off the premises before he recalled one of the first things she said. Was he really the one who sent her his address? If that was the case, then wouldn't that make this girl…

"Sapling?" He asked carefully. "Spring Sapling. That is your name?"

She dipped her head and gave him a quick curtsy, holding her bright yellow skirt as she did. "Hehe… Hi!"

The cyborg heaved a sigh of relief. He had only just given up on the possibility, but he had finally united with his first partner.

That in mind, he committed another moment to studying her appearance more thoroughly.

Withdrawing from her curtsied position, he noticed that the B-Class hero's skirt was woven with an intricate wreath of flowers that ran just short of her knees, both of which were covered by long black stockings. Below those, she wore brown leather shoes with a fashionable golden finish.

Additionally, she was equipped with a forest green sash around her waist and a black jacket that she kept open from the front, out of which peeked an undershirt that seemed to be clad in leafy vines.

Just as he picked up on this detail, the girl in front of him stepped closer. Amazingly enough, the vines strewn around her torso appeared to react independently by rapidly spreading and growing out from beneath her jacket. The verdant tendrils that seemed to behave as extensions of her body proceeded to creep over and down her shoulder, making their way across her limb. As if to say what was happening to her was completely natural, she casually held her hand up, the vine quickly covering her arm and working its way towards her dainty fingertips.

As it reached its destination, she pinched her thumb and pointer finger together, and Genos's eyes widened in shock as she produced a brilliant flower with deep azure petals and a radiant golden core. Standing a good head shorter than the cyborg, she reached up to offer him the bloom in apparent greeting, grasping it by the stem between her appendages.

Barely managing to break free of the entrancing wonder, Genos drew his eyes from the petals back to the face of the girl holding them.

Something was weird about it. Her mouth and her eyes…their expressions didn't match up.

Her smile was wide, and warm as can be. But her eyes could have told a completely different story. A churn of unease stirred up from within the pit of the cyborg's few remaining organic parts. Through the two secluded windows he stared at, was it sadness he saw reflecting back at him? Was it fear? Or...could it have been something even more foreboding?

Either way, the moment she closed her eyes to deepen her smile, this imbalance of the humors departed so quickly that the cyborg wasn't even sure if he hadn't imagined the whole thing.

"Let's do our very best to get along..." When she reopened her eyes, the briefest twinkle of color shot across her pupils so red that it matched the fire in her hair. "...Genos. Sama~"

* * *

Asinine.

A certain distinguished individual shot a disapproving glance over at the newspaper neatly folded by his studio chair before taking another sip of sparkling wine from the delicate glass he was nursing. He let the nectar pass his lips and slide over his tongue, entering his gullet with the same bittersweet burn he had tasted a thousand times before.

In the background, the ultra-high definition flat screen TV was blaring the same abrasive noise that the distasteful headline on the paper next to him was already conveying:

" _ **Hero Association Mass Sanction: 'Rule of Two' Launches Tomorrow."**_

 _Utterly_ asinine.

" _ **Expect Heavy Power Shifts In Multiple Cities."**_

A few cracks appeared around the young man's fingers where tall feelings of resentment threatened his wine glass.

If it was _his_ journalism put to work, he could think of several better headlines to get the message across much more prudently. What about _'Incompetent Local Heroes Make Love To The Pooch: Entire Hero Association Gets Blue-Balled.'_ Or maybe _'Ugly Cluster Fuck-up Makes Life a Living Hell For Hero Celebrity.'_

Yeah. That one could work.

The man drew his glass closer for another swig before a guest all but kicked his door in. The slam almost caused the drink to spill as the fancy suit waltzed right in, eyes completely obscured by a heavy pair of shades.

"Maaaask, _babyyyy,_ " the approaching man's ear-to-ear smile was every bit as phony as the yellow hair he kept slicked back. "Just swooped in from the press conference! _Groovy_ job ya did calming down the media. You make Daddy so proud~~!"

The other man swept an agitated hand through his own bed of steel blue hair, passing a side-glare of gold that he was hoping his guest could even see through those obnoxiously tinted windows he wore over his eyes. "Haven't I told you not to refer to yourself as 'Daddy'? You are but one of eight managers I choose to work with, and if I have to remind you how replaceable you are one more time, I'll have you blacklisted."

"Amai baby, c'mon now, we have fun~." The charismatic man tried to talk him down with hands raised in defense.

Sweet Mask drew a miserable breath before redirecting his gaze at the television, where his longtime political rival Kurosawa Momota was reporting the same rundown every other news anchor was non-stop all day. If she had it her way, that doll-faced vulture would have picked his bones clean and left him destitute and penniless on the roadside of City Z's 'Ghost Town.' Luckily she was just a woman.

And if his many careers had taught him one thing over all years, it's that he knew how to handle women.

"This organization has really gone to the dogs..." Mask seethed, wisely setting his glass down before his temper painted the carpet ruddy. "To think that there would ever be need for such an unconscionable measure. It's positively moronic!"

"Ey eyy, I understand how ya feel, but still glad ya managed to reign it all in for that interview with Momota-chan. I know how much she tries to get under ya skin. You two cats have never seen eye-to-eye, baybeeeeh~~!"

The male pop celebrity flashed the briefest of smiles before it receded back into the cold frown he retained for the past three days – off-camera, of course. "Naturally." He flourished. "That distasteful woman sniffs me up for a juicy scandal like a bitch in heat. But I enjoy a challenge. If she wants it, she'll have to dig her grimy paws just a little bit deeper."

"Well she _did_ pay ya a darlin' pretty penny for your time, yo."

"Yes..." Mask agreed with his eccentric manager. "Over twice the going rate that I'm accustomed to seeing from the press. Why do you think I agreed to it in the first place."

The sleazy smile on his colleague's face deepened more, revealing the long bars of his teeth. "Amai-chan is always so gracious with people's business, yeyeye _yeeey!_ "

"Wish they would return me the courtesy for once." The handsome celebrity hero turned his radiant gaze downwards to fidget with the ring around his finger. Messing with the gemstones it held captive were always a sure tell that he was bored...or irked. "I rather not look forward to putting up with whatever nuisance the Association has saddled me with. But in the interest of maintaining my image with fairness, I suppose I'll play along. After all, I don't need to give Kurosawa the ammunition that I, Ikemen Kamen Amai Mask, used my social status to excuse myself from common law. The only real time in her life she's a threat is when she can cause ripples in the ideal expectation that my fans have of me."

"Yeah, uhh, speakin' of which..." His business associate stroke his goatee in thought. "Didn't ya mention the H.A. gave ya a gal partner?"

Sweet Mask closed his eyes with unparalleled confidence. "Indeed. It was by my personal request. Girls are simple, you see. Princess, pauper, seamstress, model...they all share a fundamental similarity." He motioned to himself, gleaming in his signature silver suit. " _I_ am that similarity." He presented as a fact. "I shoulder the principle that all people be the most beautiful version of themselves that they can. And what girl does not wish to be beautiful?"

"Ayeauh, but correct me if I'm wrong..." His manager returned. "Ain't beauty one a' those relative terms?"

"Hah." Mask chuckled in amusement. "Even if my beauty doesn't fit the beholder, an actor of my caliber has many means at his disposal. Does she want a gallant prince to come sweep her off her feet? An aloof 'bad boy' to treat her like rubbish? A shoulder to cry on for a rainy day? Every lock has a key, so they say. And I..." Mask paused to reach into his pocket. The contents jingled before he pulled them out. Laying open his hand, he revealed a collection of rings, each embroidered with dazzling gemstones all colors of the rainbow and the spectrum beyond. "...I hold all the keys. You see?"

His manager gave an unsteady smile in response to the invincible smirk his top-shelf client was now sporting. "You one scary guy, Amai-babe. So where's this latest victim of yours, neh? Don't see no dame swoonin' in those big strong arms of yours."

Sweet Mask's face lapsed back into deep thought. Spinning his chair around, he turned to the mirror of his makeup parlor, elbows on the desk, hands clasped in front of his face. "...I've heard no word of her. She hasn't shown up, and it may be safe to say that she won't in time."

"I dunno much 'bout this hero biz buuuuuuut don't that hurt you too babe?" His colleague asked.

The renowned renaissance man closed his eyes to give off a flippant shrug. "No matter. If she's a no-show, it's a no-show. The Association wouldn't dare discipline me for it; I'm one of their most influential members. Losing my support means losing a full quarter of their gratuity, at least! Besides, they can't prove I didn't do absolutely everything in my power to comply with their wishes. I don't know where everybody is, but it's not like people don't know where to find me..."

"You may have a good point there babe."

"So glad to have your approval." Mask responded in that mysterious way which no one could tell was sarcastic or not. "Now then, I just happen to be in need of a buffer to proof this script with me. After which you can be a lamb and fetch me another bottle of Château Cheval Blanc 1947. Please, not another '48, or I may vomit."

"Gotcha covered babe. What page of that script you on? Still 96?"

"From the top, please."

Just as he was preparing to hand his manager a copy of the manuscript, there came a loud series of knocks at the door, earning the attention of both men.

Grateful that this person had elected not to gracelessly bash through the door as the previous person did, Amai Mask chimed out the simple order, "Enter."

The ornate door opened with no hesitation, revealing a rather out-of-breath girl that looked to be in her late twenties.

To say that Sweet Mask approved of what she was wearing would be the same as to piss into the sky and call the whole thing yellow.

The woman dressed substandard at best – bent over to dust off the shredded pair of jeans she allowed around her legs, followed by the briefest moment to straighten out the immodestly-sized tank top shirt which didn't even prove long enough to cover up her belly button. Combined with the thuggish black wristbands and mud-crusted steel-toed boots she wore, this girl clearly had no passion for high-end fashion.

"Yo guys. Sorry if I caught you in the middle of somethin'..." The girl panted somewhat frantically, putting a hand to the back of her short bed of light brown hair. "Is one of you two dudes called..." She paused to pull out a small slip of paper from her back pocket, squinting at it intently before painstakingly pronouncing, "...Icky-Man-Cummin-On-My Mask?" She looked back up at them with a clueless face after she all but butchered the articulation of the name, blinking a few times as she waited for confirmation.

Sweet Mask and his agent made two faces as different as night and day.

While the male pop star looked at her like he had a mouth full of lemons, his associate beamed brightly at how gorgeous the girl was, plain though her style was. "AAAAHHHH YEAYEAYUYEAH, gal! You be lookin' for the one-n'-only Handsomely Masked Sweet Mask! And _YEEOOOW!_ Ain'tchu a sight for sore eyes! A real Nine-outta-Ten, if ya wanted to spend that last point to catch a coffee with me!"

"That's quite enough out of you." Sweet Mask cut in, not once taking his eyes off of the female aberration in front of him. Anyone else he fixed his eye on might have felt the deep chill common in his blood thirst. This girl was either too dense to notice, or too stupid to care. "Hey, Feretto… Why don't you head downstairs. Have your phone ready in case I send for you."

"Yeyeyeyeyou got it chief! In a room with a pretty lil' thing like her, can't say I'd wanna third wheel neither! Ya got my numbah babe." His manager gave Sweet Mask a call sign with his fingers as he headed out past the girl. "Seeya lates!"

The young woman looked over her shoulder to watch the hyper man leave before turning back to Sweet Mask with a cocked eyebrow. "Who _was_ that guy?"

The man she was now addressing sat in his formal business pose, legs crossed with hands wrapped over his knee directly facing her. Despite the unhappy first impression he now had of her, he whipped together years of practice in his acting circle to sweep his cold stare into a fake but flawless smile. "You really must pardon my celebrity manager. He can come off a bit...eccentric." He rose calmly out of his seat and proceeded to saunter his way towards her, casting grace on every step he took. "I have certain doubts that you are the fashion consultant I booked an appointment with. By elimination that means you are from the Hero Association, correct?"

"Yup. That's me." She nodded, giving him a casual, friendly smile. "Sorry it took me a hot minute to find you. Had to sprint up loads of stairs after they told me you were on the tenth floor! Pretty cool, though! You must be famous or something."

Sweet Mask's fake smile faltered for a moment, revealing the concern on his face. _'Or something...'_ He thought. _'Could it be… This girl really has no clue who I am?...'_

The chances were virtually nonexistent. If you were to pick up a stone, walk into the middle of Times Square on New Year's Eve, close your eyes, spin around and throw, you'd have a better chance of being struck in that crowd by lightning than you would of hitting someone who hadn't heard his name or seen his face even once.

Presumptuous maybe. But true.

So harmless though her intentions may have been, not even having the decency to pretend knowing who he is could be perceived only as an act of war.

Restoring the aspect of false delight to his face, he followed up on her comment. "Oh, dear. Did you really run up ten flights of stairs to reach me? Why didn't you just take the elevator?"

The youth in front of him turned her head to the side in befuddlement.

"Well it would be improper for a building of this size not to have any elevators now, wouldn't it?" He added, gesturing around the big space.

"Hmm..." She put a tentative finger to her chin. "I thought about it like halfway up, but the guy at the front desk never mentioned an elevator when I asked for directions. He just told me to take the stairs..."

Mask's eyes narrowed only slightly. "Is that so… I see."

Wanting to avoid complaint, the girl gave him a civil smile while gesturing dismissively with her hands. "Ah, well, it can't be helped. No hassle. I guess the elevator must've broke or something. Haha..." She tried playing it off with a light laugh.

"...Perhaps."

Sweet Mask knew better. With the money that he and the other VIPs put into staying at a suite of this prestige, not so much as a single light bulb went out for more than five minutes. If something truly was wrong with the elevator, every electrician and tool-setter in the city would practically be stomping over each other trying to be the first to fix it. Likely the receptionist took a single look at her, determined her lower class status, and helped themselves to a little fun – by making her life a bit harder than it needed to be. Such was the great divide between castes, even in a modern society.

And staring into this girl's eyes...even hearing the uneasy inflections of her voice...he sensed that she was aware of this too. Aware of the differences between the two places from which they came. At least she had the good sense to try evading conflict. Through her, he was oddly reminded of himself years ago when he first set foot in his many professions. Back then, he might have even been bad at lying too. But now that he had – for all intents and purposes – mastered the craft, her petty attempt at passing under him was almost sad enough to make him cry.

Almost.

To pursue a solution without upsetting the situation more, he looked at her carefully and said, "Do let me know if the...elevator is still broken next time. I will see to the problem personally."

"Aw shucks, you don't have to do that, man." the tough-looking lady rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly. "Water under the bridge, like I was saying. So you're my new gang brother now, eh?" Her eagerness to swap subjects almost made him scoff. "Or I guess, since you're the big O.G. I should say I'm _your_ gang brother, hey?"

"Gang brother?" He scrunched his nose at the word. "This isn't some ghetto, you know. Up here we don't have gangs. Only...collaborators of art."

"Art?" She gave him a look identical to the one he just gave her. "Riiiiiiggghhht...Sure."

The golden-eyed patron was not quite convinced. "Allow me to enlighten you. Starting with a proper introduction." He reached out his arm and extended his hand to her purposefully. "I am, as you pronounce it _correctly,_ Ikemen Kamen Amai Mask. Do save yourself the trouble by shortening it to Mask." He added with a smirk, "Certain fans of mine even prefer to call me Amai."

"That's..." She gave the offered hand an uncertain look before reluctantly sending hers in to meet it for a hearty shake. "That's cool, I guess. I think Mask'll do just fine for me. You can call me Tanktop Girl."

"Tanktop Girl." He repeated her name with almost a purr, though in truth, he had ignored its relevance completely.

His smirk deepened as he watched her take the bait. Unbeknownst to her, his preeminent plan to charm her under his wing was already underway. With her madly smitten with him the way numerous others have fallen, he will secure complete control over her, and will therefore be impervious to any insubordination from his inferior.

' _No true maiden's heart can resist this power move.'_ He triumphed internally.

Taking her more slender hand in his, he delicately wrapped his fingers around hers, doing his best to pretend not to notice the rough calluses infusing her palms while he deepened his grip on her ever-so subtly and allowed his pleasant warmth to comfort her skin.

He maintained focus on her eyes, patiently lulling them into a silky aura of stars, waiting for that knowing glint to break her visage. It did. She noticed the intention. His smile broadened only slightly. An indication to her that he _noticed_ she noticed.

Timing the moment with military precision, he closed his eyes and slowly advanced his head downward, making its way over to the top of the hand he still held in his. His lips were within inches of the skin, ready to execute but a single one of his many signature fan-girl finishers.

Her fate is sealed. She will be dominated. An extension of his will to hang at his every beck and call.

The way it always was.

"...Dude?"

The way it will always be.

"'Scuse me, dude?"

Because you see...all girls share a fundamental similarity.

"Hey. Yo. Buddy."

All at once, the illusion shattered like a billion pieces of stained glass as she yanked her hand away from right under where he was about to kiss it.

"What gives?" Tanktop Girl asked as she struck a defensive posture, pumping her fists adamantly into her hips. "That was a tad forward, don'tcha think, Slick?" Her tone lowered as her left eyebrow raised to an angle, highlighting her suspicion.

Sweet Mask went through a long series of rapid blinks; fighting to refuse what his eyes were telling him.

Secret Move #9… The Inviting Baiser à la Main…

... _failed?!_

He felt his blood run cold as the Icy Sea. On every other girl he practiced that move on, it practically melted their insides into warm jelly. What could this mean?!

Not only that, never before had he found himself in the precarious position of having to explain his advances. Advances that were always welcome every day prior to now.

But apparently today was a new day. And now it appeared that _he_ was on the receiving end of such a surprise.

"I...I was just..." He was currently at war with his own biology, fighting the urge to sweat, lest that make him seem even guiltier of some terrible crime of subterfuge. Sharpening his mind with some quick improv skills, he finally managed to utter, "That...that is just the way celebrities greet each other in the higher circles. Sorry...did you...not know?" He tried to break the mounting tension with an embarrassed chuckle.

Not moving from her power stance, she furrowed her lip into a pout and raised an eyebrow. "I ain't a celebrity, bud."

"B-But you're a hero, aren't you?" He brought up, hoping to lead her further away from the truth. "All heroes are celebrities to some degree."

"Aww, _really_." She returned, with a hint of sarcasm. "Even us little C and B types?"

Sweet Mask's face straightened into a poignant silence. As an official member of the Hero rank evaluation staff, he very well knew the answer to that question.

Aware that she wouldn't like that answer, however, he instead said the most merciful thing he could…

"Of course." He presented a guilt-free smile, as friendly as he could make it without twitching from lingering shock. "The lower classes are the foundation that holds the Association high. A pyramid cannot function with only the tip. Wouldn't you agree?"

Her sleeveless shoulders relaxed, letting her arms casually fall back to her side. "I guess..."

He closed his eyes with delight, secretly mixed with relief. It appeared that his theatrics had placed him in the clear. "Now that we've clarified on that, I'd like to know just a bit more about you."

"'Bout me?" While Tanktop Girl was no longer on high alert, the discomfort hadn't quite left her face yet. "Not much to tell, to be honest."

"Well, going off your name and what you're wearing, I assume that you're part of Tanktop Master's crew."

She gave him a queer look. "You heard of the Tanktop Army? Can't say I ain't surprised. You don't seem the kinda guy to sport a tank top himself."

"You're no less surprised than I was to hear that you on the other hand don't seem to know who I am at all."

"Nah." She shrugged plainly. "Should I?"

The pop celebrity's eyes darkened. "...What?"

"Sorry, let me put it to you like this. You're a celeb, right? And what do celebs do?"

He sized her up a bit longer before entertaining the question. "Along with my duties as a hero, I...write. Model. Act. Sing."

"What kinda books you write?"

"Romance novels."

"Uh-huh. And what magazines you model for?"

"' _The Springtime Citizen.'_ Occasionally I make it into the _'Top Ten Alphabet Alphas.'_ "

"Whaddaya do on TV?"

"Soap operas… Romance dramas. As it happens, I won the academy award for best actor in the film 'Love Story Beauty.'"

"Sure." She tapped her cheek coolly, brushing his achievement to the side. "And your favorite song?"

Growing sicker of this one-sided interview by the second, Sweet Mask felt his patience slip away as the tone for his answers turned colder. "'Love Me Tomorrow'..."

A wide smile sprang across Tanktop Girl's face. She produced a loud noise by clapping her hands together once. "Bingo!"

The disgruntled pop star could practically feel the sharpness of the vein throbbing against his head. _"...Bingo…?"_

"Aw c'mon man, loosen up a little!" She ribbed him playfully, all manner of seriousness stripped from her expression. "You can't honestly tell me that you thought all girls are into the exact same shit, can you? Don't you know how many of us there are out there?"

Sweet Mask was grinding his teeth together, practically producing sparks from the friction. "I'm well aware, thank you..."

"Then I guess you should also be aware of a few other things..." She stepped over to his parlor desk, briefly glancing at herself in the mirror before facing down to spot all of the unopened letters piled up on the table. Given the magnitude of glitter, shades of pinks, and heart-shaped emblems, she guessed that they were from his many female fans. She gave the collection an amused smirk before turning back to face him. "I don't read romance. I don't read fashion magazines, and I do _not. watch. soap operas._ " She finished with emphasis.

"Then..." He almost didn't want to ask. "If you don't appreciate anything about my world… What exactly _do_ you appreciate?"

She didn't like his tone, but casually closed her eyes to answer. "I like motorcycles. Action movies. Metal rock. Maybe blowing off steam with a good brawl every now and then." She opened her eyes and gave him a smooth, steely gaze. "Dig it?"

Even with his already fair complexion, Sweet Mask turned pale. Deathly pale.

He dug it, alright. But now he very much wished he could have tossed that proverbial shovel when he still had the chance.

He had heard of girls such as this one – within the genus of the female subspecies, at the darkest corner where even he dare not tread. But in all his years of conquest...this was his very first encounter with one.

Newly guarded, he took a few tentative steps back without taking eyes off her tough, roguish face.

Please let this be a dream. A nightmare. The cruel figment of some illusion placed on him by a God-Level devil.

Give him fire.

Give him brimstone.

Hell, even give him one of those unsightly 'Ugmons' that he would occasionally hear whispers about.

But for the love of every beautiful thing in the world…

Do not.

Give him.

A _**Tomboy.**_

The bishounen Antichrist.

Her gaze turned from cool to concerned. "Uhh, bud? You feeling okay over there? You're making kind of a weird face..."

Sweet Mask was all but backed into a corner now – looking at her as though he was suddenly trapped in the room with a man-eating lion.

"I..." His pupils quivered in their windows as he watched her helplessly, awash with cold sweat. "Excuse me for a second. I feel faint. I need...the washroom!"

Without waiting for her to respond, he dashed over to the suite bathroom and slammed the door behind him.

He didn't know how long it took him to calm down in there. Amidst his hyperventilating, he found it difficult to arrange his thoughts.

How dare they.

How. _DARE_ they!

How dare they twist his wrist with this...this street urchin! This stray animal! They should have been grateful that he went along with this little mandate of theirs at all, even if they had agreed to give him only one partner to conform to his busy schedule. But to suffer an insult like _this…!_

He gradually worked up the courage to crack the bathroom door open by an inch to peek at his unwanted guest. Tanktop Girl was now sitting legs-crossed on the sofa with remote in hand, actively helping herself to his master television.

' _Great...'_ He seethed internally. _'It's already making itself at home...'_

He turned back to the mirror in his bathroom, looking his reflection sternly in the eye. "Look at you." His reflection came to life and addressed him. "You're pathetic. Cowering under the shadow of some common thug. If it were a man, you wouldn't fear him in the least, and you know it. So why should you fear her just because she's a woman? You deal with women all the time."

"But..." He tried to protest.

"But nothing. Do you know who you woke up as today? You woke up as 'Handsomely Masked _motherfucking_ Sweet Mask.' Are you prepared to go to bed hiding under the sheets as a different person?!"

"No..."

"No _what?!_ " His reflection demanded.

"She's just a girl." He confirmed. "I...am Sweet Mask! Girls...girls have posters of me on their wall, damn it!"

"61-by-91 centimeter posters, goddamn it!" The reflection added aggressively.

"Girls wear merchandise of me from _Victario's Secrets,_ by God!"

" _Undergarments_ from Victario's Secrets!" The reflection added again. "And that was a multi-million yen endorsement!"

"So what am I afraid of _this_ girl for?!" He shouted in outrage. "I'll bet she wears my brand on her underwear in secret!"

"Go show her whose house this is!" His reflection commanded ruthlessly.

"I _will!_ " Sweet Mask vowed. "I _will_ show her whose house this is!"

Nodding confidently at the doppelganger on his wall, he spun around and opened up the door to march back out into the main room. Honestly, what was he even worried for? He was a pop star! A world-class performer! It didn't matter if one person didn't know who he was. He would _show_ her. He would—

"Eyy, welcome back, dude." His thoughts were dashed as Tanktop Girl turned from the TV to give him a toothy grin. "You good in there? I heard you shouting. Something about...underwear?"

"Ah, y-yes...that was...I was just...making a call to the hotel laundry room."

She blinked a few times before letting it go. "...Gooootcha. Anywho, could ya help me out here? I'm tryin' to find the sports channel. The Yankees are playing. Also, got any beer sitting around? All I could find were some prissy fruity drinks."

"Oh heavens, wouldn't you know, I'm feeling faint again." He mentioned abruptly. "Must be something in that wine I had."

He immediately departed for the bathroom again, leaving her behind to stare vacantly at the door he just slammed for the second time. Only this time, he made sure to lock it before turning back to his reflection.

"You know what?" He asked it. "Fuck this. I'm paying the Association a visit."

* * *

Saitama couldn't exactly remember the last time he wanted to die this much. Probably since the days he routinely tortured himself with his old self-made training program.

From the moment they started moving to the moment they stopped at the store to the moment they started moving again to the moment they were now standing here in the subway express car, _no break_ from it. _NO REST._

His miniature accomplice's cute little list of "Do's and Don'ts" turned out to be _anything_ but little...or cute for that matter. The only time the esper stopped her insipid recitation of the "rules" she wrote down was when she'd take a quick sip out of her kiwi-flavored juice box, which, _yes_ – she decided she _was_ thirsty after all.

Saitama rolled his eyes. Kids were so fickle.

Unfortunately, the juice ran out about half an hour back, although she still had the box with her. Occasionally she would take a few dry, drawn-out slurps from the straw, as if she wasn't quite convinced that she nailed every drop of what she paid for.

But the grating noise against his ears was the very least of the bald young man's annoyances.

Her rules were garbage. Hot garbage.

Sure, he understood the one where there was to be no light or noise after 10pm. And he could even sympathize with the rule not to enter her bedroom " _under any circumstance."_ People have their space, after all – a principle he became more aware of since living with Genos, who at times had very little regard for his.

But someone please tell him. Why. In the name of fluffy butterburgers. Did he have to leave her _whole building_ every time she needed to use the bathroom? Do _all girls_ take that measure when a guy starts living with them?

And why did he need to wear not just one, but two layers of gloves before handling anything in the refrigerator? What was she cultivating in there? Drugs? Nuclear fusion cores? The T-Virus?

Why did he have to place the iron trivets absolutely dead-center on any table when they're in use? Wait...what the hell even _was_ an iron trivet?

These, along with a great many other questions were abuzz in his naked noggin as his petite partner continued scrolling down the list with a no-nonsense look in her eye.

"Rule Number Four-Seven-Five," Tatsumaki proceeded with the next provisional article, talking around the straw that kept the juice box hanging from her mouth. "Thou shalt be limited to one shower in a day, not to extend more than five minutes. In addition, thou shalt not use more than a grand total of one liter of water from the sink per day."

Saitama spat at that. "What?! One liter?! For what reason!"

She didn't even bother to look up at him from the list. "Water bill."

"Do you live in the Sahara Desert?! No way water's that expensive!"

"RULE FOUR-SEVEN-SIX." She raised her voice, still not bothering to look at him. "Guests complaining about the rules set henceforth are subject to promptly fuck off."

He shot her a lifeless deadpan. "I _swear_ you made that up."

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, mouth obscured by the paper in front of her. "And I swear you are mistaken. Check it, lamebrain."

She turned the list over, allowing him to hunch forward and look for the number they were on. He squinted as he read off the words aloud. "...subject to...fuck...off...' Huh. Well. That sure shut me up."

She scoffed. "Glad _something_ can..."

From the underground subway they were riding, it might as well have been nighttime in there. The only lights to illuminate the outer darkness of the tunnels were the ones lining the railway. Conveniently, all the major cities had a complex network of multipurpose channels beneath them, ranging from the sake of easy pedestrian transport to redirecting sewage to the treatment plant.

The particular junction that the two heroes rode in was unusually crowded. Hopefully no bomb this time. With every seat occupied, Saitama was relegated to stand holding a grab handle with his cactus and other effects carefully set down next to him. Tatsumaki simply elected to float, trying her very best not to think about how people were confined to standing so close to her that they were practically grinding into her ass like polished marble.

And then there it came again.

 _ **-sluuuuuuuuuuuuuuurp-**_

Saitama cracked his head slowly towards the source of the offense, lower eyelid twitching madly beneath the bloodshot eye. If you wanted to talk about straws, then this was truly the one that broke the camel's back.

"Okay, enough already, stop!"

Tatsumaki gave him an idle look. "Stop what."

"You finished that juice box like a gazillion years ago! There's nothing left inside it, so just. stop. _sucking._ "

"Hey dipshit, I paid for this with _my money._ Are you telling me what to do with _my money?_ That's a direct violation against Rule Sixty-Five."

"Yeah, well guess what, Happy Meal. I'm invoking Clause Two of Rule Sixteen, stating that any party has the right to disregard all other rules if it threatens the life and/or well-being of the concerned party."

Tatsumaki blinked, unable to believe he kept track of the list so well. Then again, the only reason he remembered that particular standard was probably because it was the only one in the entire list that yielded him some sort of benefit. "What I'm doing with my drink isn't threatening you." She pointed out.

"It might if it drives me to throw myself through that window!" He gestured towards the glass.

She rolled her eyes at his bit of melodrama. If he was still managing to stand after a direct wave of her telekinesis bore down on him, he could probably attempt suicide as many times as he fancied and still not achieve a thing.

Not that it wouldn't entertain her to see him try.

In a show of defiance, she gave one last quick sip of the straw, smirking when she noticed the sharpness of the sound make him twitch uncomfortably. Then, she removed the apparatus from her mouth entirely, and using her psionic energy, she levitated the small square container next to her, crushing it into nothingness with relative ease.

If that much annoyed him, getting rid of him might be even easier than she thought.

"Hummmm~" she cooed lightly, turning back to the elongated page still floating in front of her. "Now let's move on to Rule Number—oof!"

The entire subway train rumbled violently, nearly throwing many of the standing passengers off their feet. Likely hit a bad piece of track.

Someone next to Tatsumaki – an older gentleman – lost his balance more than others, and ended up knocking straight into the floating esper, sending her back into the unwavering firmness of Saitama's chest.

The man was quick to apologize.

"Ahh~ S-sorry about that, young miss… I didn't mean to—"

But not quick enough.

"Fucking hell, gramps! If you're having that much trouble standing, get a goddamn wheelchair!" She snapped at him with a heated face; her back still up against her partner.

The senior citizen tightened his wrinkly face to the volume she was using, which also caused quite a few others to steer clear of her as well. "Begging your pardon..." he replied, unable to believe that so much rage could fit into such a small body. "But the train merely knocked me into you. For the sake of tired old men like me, try to be a little more forgiving of simple accidents."

Her face contorted with outrage. _"Forgiving?!_ You've got a lot of fucking nerve to—MMPH! _"_ She squealed in surprise when a hand slapped over her mouth from behind.

"Sorry, man. Afraid she skipped her nap today." Saitama consoled him with a simple smile.

While it didn't really succeed in making the man feel all that better, he did give the bald hero a small nod of understanding before shuffling the other direction, lest he incur the wrath of the wind goddess a second time.

Saitama felt teeth against his fingers, and realizing that it was the result of her trying to chew her way though his hand, he loosened his grip over her mouth.

"Ugh! Let go of me, Baldy! Stop touching me!"

"No."

" _NOOOOOW!"_

"Uh-uh."

Tatsumaki grunted and squirmed to wrestle her way out of his arms – to what end, even she didn't know. She was maybe 34 kilos soaking wet, and Saitama wasn't letting up. Even if she tried applying some psychic powers to the equation, she wasn't absolutely certain that she could prevent the recoil from causing danger.

After a few minutes of struggling, she finally gave up and dangled cartoonishly between his entrapping arms.

Saitama, seeing his cue, began speaking. "Why are you such an angry noodle?"

"Fuck you." She spat.

"I'm serious. You just don't like people, do you."

"What was your _first_ fucking clue... You half-baked testicle."

He cocked his head sideways, giving her an odd look. "Can you even bake a testicle?"

She snorted at his clueless followup. "Forget it. I have nothing to say to you."

Saitama sighed. Hopefully this was the closest he would ever come to being a parent. Even if it was already closer than he preferred. "Is the idea of making the world your enemy that appealing to you?"

"..."

"Oh, you just wanna brood? Works for me. It's kinda hard to talk over your insults anyway." He readjusted the way he held her to make it more comfortable for both of them. "I sorta collected this over a short time with you, but you just seem angry."

"Pff..." She closed her eyes, trying to drown out his voice with her thoughts. _'He doesn't understand. I can't explain it to him. I can't explain to anybody.'_

"Not just here and there, but constantly just mad all the time at...well...everybody. I don't know who or what gets your goat so much, but it ain't that old man's fault."

' _I didn't choose to be this. I didn't choose to be...so angry.'_

"You don't have to like the people we're supposed to protect, but I can't just have you go around attacking them either."

' _I didn't choose anger... Anger chose me first.'_ She affirmed. _'And I am the only one who will ever understand what that means.'_

"So attack _me._ "

Her eyes opened in surprise at the suggestion. She turned as best as she could to look back at him. "H-Huh?"

"I can't make your anger disappear." He acknowledged. "I know we aren't close. We're not even friends. If you can't throw hard feelings away, then at the very least, you can throw them at me."

She narrowed her eyes in distrust. At best, he's bluffing. At worst, he's insane. No way does a guy just say this and mean it. At least not without a catch. "Explain." She ordered in a low voice.

"We aren't friends." He repeated. "What do I care how nasty you get towards me? Drop the f-bomb on me, a literal bomb on me, doesn't matter. Because I'll take you on… All of you." She gasped softly at his face. Out came those same blasted features he seemed to take on whenever he got so serious about something. And this time, she couldn't do anything to hide the blush she was positive that her face was now sporting. Her rushing blood produced warm tingles inside her that almost felt...dare she even think it...not entirely unpleasant.

At this point, she was beginning to wonder if he had some sort of control over when his face morphed like that.

"So the next time you get angry – angry enough to scream," He continued. "Don't scream at old men. Don't scream at your sister." She noticeably flinched at this additive. "Don't even scream into your pillow, because a pillow can't listen. You go ahead and scream at me. Because after all..." His lips tugged a bit upwards, producing a gentle smile. "...It's only me."

Tatsumaki's bright green eyes quivered unsteadily at him. Her lip about did the same. Before it could be taken any further, however, she closed her eyes and jerked her head away, giving a rough pull from his forceful embrace.

This time he let her go; having said what he needed to.

" **Now arriving at City X; Terminal 3."** A robotic voice buzzed in over the intercom.

The compartment screeched to a steady halt, and the doors opened.

People seemed to pour out in droves, and Saitama couldn't help but wonder how much of that had to do with the spectacle that his tumultuous partner made out of herself.

As the area vacated, Saitama spotted almost an entire section of seats that opened up, and tired of standing, he picked up his luggage and ambled over to a spot, leaving Tatsumaki to float in her own private space by herself.

Only a few other passengers besides them remained onboard now. The air of privacy had been somewhat restored, along with some comfortable breathing room.

After a few minutes drifted away from her partner in silent reflection, Tatsumaki dared herself to glance over her shoulder to where Saitama was sitting, holding his beloved cactus in his lap.

She put a gentle hand to her chest, somehow unable to break away from the green, prickly plant taking up the space against his legs.

But…

Wait...

What was this...bizarre feeling?

With him more distant from her now, it was as if her blood began to simmer down. She oddly felt...colder.

Was it because his body felt so damn warm against her for some reason? It had to be, right?

Because there was no way in _hell_ that it could be loneliness! Abso-fucking-lutely not...!

…

. . .

Slowly but ever so surely, she drifted closer to where he sat, floating down into the seat next to him at the pace of a falling leaf.

After she was firmly planted, she snuck him another careful look, only briefly before turning to face straight ahead. She twiddled her thumbs a bit. Almost as if looking for something to say.

When that something finally hit, she snapped her head up to him, almost desperately. "I…!" And then just as quickly, she snapped it back away to stare over at an invisible object that for some reason just became _very_ interesting.

"Uh?" Saitama, apparently coming back from some distant daydream, turned to give her a neutral peer.

"...I fought a god today." She finally managed to mutter, still looking away. _'Damn me… Why is it so hard to speak all of a sudden…?!'_

"Ah yeah?" He cracked a smile, apparently at least somewhat interested. "That's cool. And how was he?"

"Mm-mm..." She shrugged stiffly. "Nothing too special… Just some cheap tricks and a big mouth."

Saitama slightly opened his mouth into a frown. "Awww. That's too bad. So in other words…he was kinda like you, then."

Tatsumaki felt herself jerk up on instinct. Forgetting all about her sudden apprehension, she snapped over to face him full front. "Wh-what the hell did you say about me?! Well if that's how you feel then let's see how well _you_ would've lasted against him! Wait what's that we can't? Oh right that's because I already kicked his shit in sideways! Me! But I'll bet he would've roasted you a thousand times – no – _ten_ thousand times over before you even got a proper hit in! What do you have to say to that, huh?! _Huuuuh?!_ "

He gave her a harmless shrug. "Could be. Like you said, I guess we'll never know."

Tatsumaki crossed her arms and puffed up her chest, reveling in her victory with a prideful smirk.

"But tell me something," he asserted, "what makes you so sure he was really a god?"

"Because I…I just...!" She stuck up her pointer finger to talk back before it withered away along with her response.

"I mean, did this guy go changing water into wine right in front of you, or did he just _call_ himself a god and you believed him?"

"..."

Tatsumaki did _not_ want to answer this question.

...

...Ah, fuck it! Who was she even trying to impress anyway?!

" **Now arriving at Terminal 6."** The robotic voice chimed in.

"Th-That's us." She piped up, a little more than grateful to be saved by the bell.

* * *

After a brief drag across town for some last-minute provisions, the two ended up side-by-side, standing in front of the door leading into the lair of a Tornado. A door that would usher them both into their new lives as dictated by the new Rule of Two.

New lives. Stuck to each other. Like glue.

At first, nothing sounded more nauseating. Now Tatsumaki didn't know how or what to feel. How badly she wished she could just give up trying to. But feelings, as it turns out, can be inexhaustible little bitches that live inside of you, gnawing at your guts until – when given an adequate incubation period – coalesce to form one great big superbitch of a problem.

But the real problem is...how do you kill something like that if you aren't sure that you actually hate it?

"This is it." Saitama broke her from her thoughts. She looked over to see him already making his way to the patio, scouting out a decent place to set that cactus.

"Meh. If you say so..." She spoke distantly.

"This little guy and me," he found the place, crowning a nearby sill with the pot, "we'll both be in your care, Tatsu."

"Told you not to call me that." She rebuffed with no real effort. It's not like he'd stop anyway.

Saitama gazed at her while scratching his cheek, but if he was actually thinking something or not, nobody could tell. Ultimately, he turned back to try the door handle. Locked.

"Uhh, Tats, I think your door is—"

"Keys are with me, stupid."

He turned back to see her jingling a ring of them around her finger. Using her other hand, she pointed at the door, and he heard something unlatch.

With a second try, he realized that she had unlocked the door without even bothering to use the conventional opener. "Ah. Handy." He smiled.

He looked back at her just in time to catch the key ring she tossed him. "Lose a single one of those, and I'll re-purpose your skin into a lampshade."

"Gooooot it. Points for the creative threat."

As he turned to make his way in, he heard her voice call out behind him again. "Hey. Baldy."

"Yeah?"

He spotted the notorious list – the new bane of his existence – levitating right next to her.

He frowned. Here they come. More rules.

But then, the last thing he expected to happen...happened.

The paper caught fire. It combusted completely into nothing long before he could even fully process what was going on.

Tatsumaki appeared to neither say nor do anything. She just kept looking at him; floating in the space before him with an unwavering gaze, even as the list went up – even as all the words that she spent the afternoon reading off to him turned to black soot and littered the ground.

He saw the expression she was making. But initially, he didn't understand.

She didn't appear angry, as was often her tendency. She didn't seem nervous or scared. And she certainly didn't look happy.

Yet somehow, within the dense recesses of Saitama's mind, the pieces slowly began to drift together.

What she was conveying to him wasn't meant to be understood with any primary expression. What she was conveying to him didn't owe an explanation to anything.

Her eyes were warning him – shooting him one single message:

 _ **Don't hurt me.**_

Saitama stood there, stuck in the moment and not fully knowing what to say, even as she already drifted past him and beat him through the door. There, she turned back, eyeing him over with absolute austerity. The emeralds of her eyes glimmered from inside the dark room.

"Trusting you is my decision. Proving me right is yours." She uttered gravely. "Don't fuck this up for us, Baldy."

He gave her a solemn stare. Next to her eyes, the dull black dots nesting in his were unimpressive, but unwavering as well.

"...You got it." He said with a straight face.

Then, dragging baggage in tow, he stepped inside and vanished with her behind the closed door.

 **A/N: Admittedly, this chapter gave me some hell. But I just couldn't wait to portray Sweet Mask.**

 **I would ask what you guys think of the new season if I wasn't so certain that literally every other author on the OPM section was pretty much already doing that. I'll tell you what _my_ favorite part sure was though… Bang completely stomping Garou's shit in. I got hit-crit on the part where Garou tries to cop out and sling dirt up at him, and Bang was like "Naw bitch" before sweeping it to the side and continuing to make ground beef tacos out of him. Poor bastard.**

 **Also, Saitama is King's Stand, confirmed.**

 **Ugh… Back to work for me.**


End file.
